


A Tangential Dream

by Nari8tor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Byleth isn't asleep for five years but she is messed up, Claude's real name, Events will start looking canon post-timeskip, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Politics, Fantasy Racism, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Multi, Narcoleptic Byleth, Return to Fodlan eventually, Slow Burn, The Golden Deer go to Almyra, The golden deer all go a bit dark, Time-skip canon divergence, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nari8tor/pseuds/Nari8tor
Summary: What if Claude never went to Fodlan? But the war in Fodlan came to him.***“Technically, Fodlanese is your mother tongue.” his mother quipped in the sharp melodic language she was trying to teach him. She directed his attention back to conjugating the imperfect present tense, “Try it once again, Habibi.”“You’re right of course, but I am in my father’s land and it’s perfect flying weather,” Khalid responded in Almyran, longingly staring out the palace windows, his eyes finding the wyvern rookery instantly.“Any good diplomat should be well versed in the life and language of his neighbors. You never know when you might need that knowledge, your life could depend upon it.”Khalid snorted at that, his mind unable to conjure such a circumstance.Five years later, meeting the blade of an axe hewn from bone, Prince Khalid is proven wrong.
Relationships: Black Eagles Students & Blue Lions Students & Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, Golden Deer Students & My Unit | Byleth, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 58
Kudos: 132





	1. A Skirmish at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing. I literally thought of this entire fic randomly. I don't know how long this will be, I'm going to try to go for a full retelling of Verdant Wind updated regularly, but I'm also finishing grad school this summer and life is weird right now. Fire emblem 3 Houses has been my quarantine binge.  
> I'm also aware that Almyra is somewhat based on Middle Eastern cultures and places, I'm not from there and I'm going to do my best to research and represent this fantasy cultural amalgamation as respectfully as I can. The first few chapters of this fic will be set during the five-year time skip in Almyra but everyone is still going to come back together in Fodlan when they're supposed to.  
> Any and all feedback is welcome.

20th Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1176

“Technically, Fodlani is your mother tongue.” his mother quipped in the sharp melodic language she was trying to teach him. She directed his attention back to conjugating the imperfect present tense, “Once again, Habibi.” 

“You’re right of course, but I am in my father’s land and it’s perfect flying weather,” Khalid responded in Almyran, longingly staring out the palace windows, his eyes finding the wyvern rookery instantly.

“Any good diplomat should be well versed in the life and language of his neighbors. You never know when you might need that knowledge, your life could depend upon it.”

Khalid snorted at that, his mind unable to conjure such a circumstance. 

***

Five Years Later 

***

24th Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

Prince Khalid is proven wrong.

It was a simple raiding party. The wyvern raiders set out to surprise travelers in the early dawn, many still at camp, these unlucky travelers, on the road but less aware. It was the sort of amusement that Prince Khalid was expected to take part in at least once a moon, a bit of pillaging, he had been doing since his twelfth summer, how could it have gone so catastrophically wrong in mere moments? Commander Omar had been certain they were travelling merchants, and this would be a fitting way to extract their tithe to entering the Almyran domain so why were they fighting back like gods? They certainly hadn’t expected young traders to fight with Fodlani military training let alone to have mages.

His wyvern was dead, his arrows were scattered and his axe was near breaking. Khalid had been trained by the great General Nader the Undefeated, his father First of his Name, Kamal the Conquerer, and his mother Tiana the Wrath of the West, not to mention his older brothers (still growing into their titles), and yet he had never been defeated so soundly. 

And never would be again, he thought as the wood of his war axe snapped and gave way to the force of the strange bone bladed axe with which it collided. The taffy-haired warrior woman hefting the weapon high for another swing was about to end all his thoughts when in his panic long-disused grammar and sentence structures danced in his head and he prayed to all the gods above that the words tumbling from his mouth made sense.

“Please! Spare me! I surrender!” Khalid flung out his hands in submission, his eyes fixed with horror on the descending blade as time slowed. He felt the rush of air sweep past him as the monstrous blade froze in the air, inches from his skull, the woman took a step back, blade still tentatively trained on him.

“Lorenz, Leonie! We’ve got our first prisoner of war! He speaks a bit of Fodlanese, too.” She shouted to her companions and time began to move forward for Khalid once more. He was at last able to look around him, several of his men had retreated, now black dots against the skyline, and of those who had stayed, he was the only one still standing. 

The “merchants” they had been planning to raid for sport, were no merchants at all now that they were out of their wagons. They were Fodlani, as they had initially appeared, with their rainbow-hued hair and alabaster skin, but though there were young they were all incredibly skilled warriors, and Khalid was quite sure he had heard tales of a monstrous warrior like the pink-haired warrior guarding Fodlan’s Throat before. They numbered only seven, the warrior who had subdued him, a mountain knight with purple hair in amethyst armor, and another orange-haired lancer, the Almyrans had incorrectly assumed were their only escorts. A true giant of a man wielding sharpened knives on his fists who had been driving the wagon beside the lime-haired archer who had picked his brethren out of the sky. And last standing over the sizzling corpse of Commander Omar himself stood an eerie, white-haired mage and a blue bonneted priestess. The dangerous magic was still crackling on the mage’s hands but she looked at the corpse rather forlornly and the priestess beside her was offering up what Khalid could only assume were prayers to the Fodlani deity. These seven had soundly defeated twenty of Almyran’s finest Wyvern Raiders, prince Khalid included.

“Well then, Raphael, tie him up! Let me get out my map, I’ve got questions for him! Lorenz, keep an eye out for more raiders.” The orange-haired lancer dismounted swiftly and began digging in her saddlebags. 

The mounted knight beside her remained staring blankly ahead at the sparse treeline. They were not far from the border, but already the lush landscape of Fodlan had given way to hardier trees that thrived in the arid climate and made for poor cover from ambush. This knight was thinking ahead to the next battle, death in his eyes. 

“Sorry about this, but not really.” the pink warrior grinned, unnervingly chipper as she flicked the blood from her axe into the dirt. 

“I don’t mind a woman tying me up.” Khalid flashed her a flirty smile, attempting levity as he tried to keep his heart rate steady and his mind calm, searching for an escape. 

“Good thing, I’m taking over.” the dark-eyed giant called Raphael descended on him with rope and bound his hands behind him. Khalid thought about further joking at his expense, not minding a man taking charge with him either, but evaluating the somber gazes of his new captors and the man binding his hands, he decided against it for the sake of his survival. His fist was nearly the size of Khalid’s head, if he attempted a mad dash east now, he would surely be crushed by its grasp.

Raphael pulled his binds tight, and with his meaty grasp forced Khalid onto his knees in the dirt with ease. 

“Say, how much Fodlanese can you speak? Most Almyrans I’ve met don’t bother learning the language.” The rose-colored warrior asked.

“Forgive me for not having mastered the tongue, I haven’t had much occasion to speak it.” 

“But you still seem to know it well.” She mused. 

“I’m half Fodlani. My parents were traveling mercenaries.” Khalid blended truth and lies in the hope of accruing further mercy. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got such pretty green eyes,” She brushed his hair out of his eyes, unexpectedly gentle with her bloodied left hand and unabashedly staring. Khalid thought he might charm her, returning the intensity of her gaze. She continued to stare at him, taking in his lighter skin, and emerald eyes. 

For a moment, Khalid thought he had won her over until he saw that her cold, intense pink eyes were never reached by her unwavering smile as she added, “And yet you still fell in with Almyran thugs, how unfortunate.” 

Khalid was reminded of a jeweled serpent weaving out of a basket, strikingly beautiful, but always deadly. 

“I think you’ve scared him enough, Hilda.” the orange-haired lancer appeared, she elbowed the warrior woman, “Go help Marianne with… the thing.” 

What thing?” Khalid asked, still translating a half-second behind in his head.

“Nothing important.” She waved absently in the air and Khalid made note of her eyes quickly darting to the covered wagon, to which Hilda was happily skipping.

“Now, you might be able to help us, we’re on our way to Anshan.” She unrolled a vellum map before him.

Looking at her gear and having seen the way she fought Khalid made a guess, “You’re looking for the mercenary guild.”

“Right you are, were your parents part of it?” She asked. 

“My mother was, and I was going to be as well--before I was conscripted,” Khalid said, quickly building his false identity in his head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She pointed out the route they had been traveling, “I’m Leonie. With this trajectory, we’re about a week away from the city, right?”

“And you can call me Claude.” Best to sound as Fodlani as possible, he studied the map carefully, unused to seeing Almyra oriented off to the side rather than taking up the bulk of the map, most Almyran maps didn’t show the Fodlan borders or territory with great detail. He took a moment to glance over the names dotting around Fodlan’s Throat, but Raphael’s hand on his shoulder quickly turned his attention to the Almyran routes. “That’s right. In another day or so you’ll be at Shiva Falls, but why aren’t you taking the main road? That will get you there three days faster.”

“No main road,” Leonie said, any warmth in her voice suddenly gone cold.

“There will be fewer raiders like me on the main road as well." Khalid drew her attention back to the routes, nodding at the spidery branch routes that passed through smaller, more forgotten villages farther from the capital city. "It’s easy prey for minor Almyran lords to send contingents out to backwater villages and trails, they think it’s sporting to send us to attack foreigners near the border.” 

“No main road.” She closed up the map. 

“And how do you know I wasn’t lying about this current route?” Khalid rolled the Fodlanese on his tongue, still unused the sound of the language.

“That would be inadvisable.” He heard the deep timbre of Raphael’s voice behind him as the giant’s grip tightened.


	2. An Inevitable Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fodlani warriors were more than capable of fighting, so why were they fleeing the war to go east? And what were they hiding in the wagon? Khalid continues to lie and survive, learning everything he can about his new captors.

29th Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester was supposed to be in charge. Khalid surmised that within a day as the group’s prisoners, and in hearing the name also surmised that these candy-colored warriors were much more than they had appeared. He had yet to learn the surnames of the others, but hearing Hilda shout Lorenz’s full name in indignation was a slip of the tongue that told him much, as did Lorenz's lack of energetic response. Lorenz was the presumptive next leader of the Leicester Alliance in Fodlan, he remembered that much from his Fodlani education with his mother. Lorenz was most definitely not supposed to be sneaking across Almyra. He was supposed to be in charge, but he did nothing leaderly at all. A great sadness gripped the knight and he rarely spoke more than to give a soft word of thanks for rations offered around the campfire. He mostly stared off into the distance with his eyes seeking the horizon, seeking approaching danger, it was a habit borne from trauma and danger, one Khalid had fought hard to master but occasionally slipped into as well, especially in his search for a potential rescue raiding party as they traveled. 

In the absence of Lorenz’s leadership, the mounted lancer Leonie and Hilda seemed to be sharing authority, deciding when they would camp when they would leave, the order of watch at night, whose turn it was to watch their prisoner. They were traveling in less than ideal areas of Almyra and had been set upon by common thieves twice since taking Khalid prisoner and once again the warriors dispatched the thieves without hardly any struggle. None of the local bandits would recognize him and it would be another day before any surviving raiders from his party reached the capital and they started the search for him. It was not uncommon for raiding parties to go out for weeks at a time, and though Khalid raided sparingly and preferred the council sessions with his father to terrorizing innocent merchants, his absence likely would not be noted yet. Khalid’s only option was to observe his captors for their weaknesses and plot his escape, and while he watched, he saw much.

Hilda’s outwardly joyous demeanor was unnerving to watch, as she would cheer herself on in a sing-songy voice, cutting down her enemies, but he saw that facade crumble too when she thought no one was watching as she cleaned that monstrous bone axe by the fire, sometimes tears would gather in her eyes, but they never lingered long, especially when the demure priestess, Marianne would join her. 

Marianne was adept at healing magic, her comrades were rarely wounded and rarely remained wounded for long, but she was constantly apologizing to them, and apart from when she was resting her head on Hilda’s shoulder, she was almost always on the verge of tears. She frequently disappeared into the wagon with the little white-haired mage, Lysithea, and did not reappear for hours. If Hilda were not so ferociously protective of her, Khalid might try to sway the priestess to let him free.  
He thought the young mage might also be a useful ally if he could use her youth against her, but magic always seemed ready to burst from her skin, and her forlorn stares west were only outmatched by Lorenz’s constant search for enemies. Lysithea was decidedly unapproachable. 

Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael were the warmest of his captors. They had all introduced themselves when they made camp for the first night and expressed that though they meant him no harm, they didn’t plan on freeing him until they made it to Anshan safely. They were curious about Almyra and talking about his homeland over dinner gave Khalid a chance to observe them more closely. They had replaced his original bindings with a metal shackle on his wrist that Lysithea formed using her magic and tied Khalid to the wagon, allowing him some freedom of movement while they traveled but ensuring he never went far. 

Though they never said it, Khalid was aware that he was not permitted in the covered wagon either. Only Ignatz, Marianne, and Lysithea went in and out regularly, and whatever they did in there, they were sure to discuss in hushed tones away from Khalid. 

Leonie was insatiable for stories about Almyran mercenaries and mercifully, his mother had in fact shared a lot with Khalid about her travels, including the visit from the famed Blade Breaker years before, a story which he thought was objectively cheery yet somehow left Leonie much more somber than he had expected, and for once she retired to the wagon, leaving Khalid, Ignatz, and Raphael alone by the fire. Lorenz was patrolling aimlessly. Hilda and Marianne had retired to a tent near the edge of the camp, and Lysithea was reading by her tent with the light of her magic. 

Raphael was still heartily eating the Almyran hare that Leonie and Ignatz had hunted for them earlier. The petite archer was vigorously sketching something by the light of the fire while Raphael finished his leftovers. 

Khalid watched Leonie disappear into the wagon and sighed, “Was it something I said?”

“We actually knew Jeralt,” Ignatz replied without looking up from his sketch.

“Knew? Past tense?” Khalid checked his Fodlanese, “Did something happen to the famed hero?”

“He was killed this past year.” Ignatz rested his charcoal pencil and looked at Khalid, “We were all training to become officers in the Leicester Alliance, Jeralt was.. Involved in that training. Leonie was especially fond of him, and well of course-”

Ignatz blanched, catching himself mid-sentence and avoiding Khalid’s gaze, having said too much he returned to his drawing.

“So what makes future Alliance officers suddenly want to join up with Almyran mercenaries?” Khalid leaned back, his eyes fixed on the flustered artist. 

“Nothing good.” Raphael threw a hare bone into the fire, letting the flames crackle up around it as it dried, “No offense to Almyra, but we certainly didn’t come here by choice.”

“Would you tell me why you did then?” Khalid’s rapport with Raphael was slow going, though the giant seemed gentle enough at the end of the day, staring into the fire, he could see the large man harbored regrets enough of his own. 

“Desperation. Had the Almyrans heard that war has been declared in Fodlan?” Raphael asked.

“No, I hadn’t heard.” He had. The king’s council had been made aware that there was civil strife, strife that they would potentially exploit, however, the army at large, and the common Almyran was still unlikely to know. 

“Well.... it has. Edelgard--the new Adrestian Emperor intends to conquer the continent.” Raphael sighed.

“So you’re joining the Mercenary Guild here to escape it?” Khalid asked.

Raphael laughed and the unexpected booming noise caught him off guard, “Actually, we’re in Almyra looking for a way to fight it.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I might tell you more when we get to Anshan. Goodnight, Claude,” Raphael clapped him on the shoulder again and tossed Khalid the bedroll they’d loaned him. 

Raphael returned to his tent and Ignatz was soon to follow. Claude caught a glance of Ignatz's sketch illuminated by the fire as he stood to go and put to memory the charcoal lines of a delicate face framed in long curled hair and decided the boy was in love. 

Khalid tossed the scraps of his dinner into the fire and spread out his bedroll by the wagon as the chill of the night descended. As he stretched out, he stared up at the sky and filed mental notes on what he learned about his captors that day. He had been lying there a while when he heard the sounds of boots pressing on wood and he saw Leonie descend from the front of the wagon and take up her bow. Lorenz emerged from the shadows at the edge of camp and approached her by the dying fire.

"Nothing to report?" Leonie forced a smile as she glanced up at him. 

The ghost of a chuckle escaped his throat, the first that Khalid had heard, as he replied, "All clear, I will be retiring then."

"Please, try to sleep, Lorenz. We need you at full strength." Leonie punched his armored shoulder lightly.

"And you as well after your watch, Leonie. It is unbecoming of a noble to rely on commoners so much, I cannot thank you enough for your strength in these times, you have been integral in keeping us alive on this journey."

"Oh, Lorenz, just get some sleep." 

The somber knight disappeared into his tent and Leonie sank into a crouch by the fire. Her bow drawn but her face buried in her shoulder, after a few moments Khalid was sure he heard the soft sounds of her crying. A poor way to keep watch, and it was the first night that she was not actively watching him.

Khalid waited until the night grew still again, Leonie did not move from her crouch. Everyone else had retired for the night, and now, Khalid was sure no one was in the wagon. Khalid got up slowly, rising to a crouch and testing the ground behind him for debris. Once he was steadily on his feet and pleased to see that Leonie had yet to get up from her reverie, he gingerly gathered the chain attached to his shackle in his arms as he approached the front of the wagon, careful to ball it into his tunic and muffle the clinks. He was bound to a brace near the bolts that affixed the horses when the wagon moved, and so long as he held the chain up without tension, he thought he could investigate without making much noise. The real test would be the old wooden steps but Khalid knew how to move slowly, one step at a time. 

Khalid made it onto the front of the wagon and could see faint light drifting through the canvas flaps from within. Carefully keeping the chain balled in his shirt, Khalid drew back the wagon flap and stepped inside. Letting the canvas drape down to hide him, he stared at the wagon's contents. As expected, crates of supplies and bags of food and their belongings piled high near the back of the wagon, but near the front, loosely wrapped in blankets, lay a heavily bandaged sleeping Fodlani woman. A shuttered oil lamp lay near her dimly illuminating her pale skin and pained face. She had ragged dark blue hair splayed around her shoulders and a wet rag across her forehead, she was clearly in distress as she slept. Her face contorted and bandaged fingers at her sides twitched in her sleep. Beside her wrapped in burlap, another of those horrible bone weapons lay, a greatsword by its size, but with a cavern in the hilt. Khalid knelt to avoid making noise and crept closer to get a better look at the weapon but as he did she stirred softly and as if by instinct her hand reached out to grab his.  
Khalid's heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest, what would his captors think of him should they walk in on him crouched over her like this? He had never seen her outside of the wagon as they traveled, this must be why the priestess was always coming and going from the wagon. He shuddered to think how bad her injuries must be that they were beyond Marianne's healing. One of his men had nearly severed Ignatz's arm at the joint and Marianne was able to heal it up as good as new within a few days. Yet this woman's wounds remained bandaged.

He knew he should retreat, he knew he should exit the wagon and - well he didn't really know what he should do with this information but he should definitely not be found here leaning over this woman, yet he couldn't look away from her. Her fingers dug into his own, and she whimpered in pain in her dream and Khalid tentatively returned the pressure of her hand. He saw her face soften, and adjusting his weight so that he could support the chain with his knee, he reached to wipe the sweat from her brow. Even in her sleep she leaned into his touch and was surprised to find that she was cold to the touch, despite the blankets and the layers of gauze. He felt pity for her, but he knew he couldn't linger.

Careful not to disturb her further, he withdrew from her and backed out of the wagon. Turning to dismount his eyes went to the fire and he felt his heart drop into his stomach, Leonie was no longer crouched there.

He heard the snap of a twig and looked up in horror, standing in front of her tent, her bow drawn, arrow nocked, Leonie hissed at him, "You've seen!"


	3. Negotiating Destiny

29th Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

Khalid’s breath caught in his chest. Curses and prayers in Almyran tumbled from his lips. Leonie’s arrow flew and he dove for the ground beside the wagon. Leonie let out an indignant screech as her arrow lodged itself in the wagon flap where Khalid had been standing a moment before. She knocked another arrow as Khalid shielded himself behind the wagon.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her! I was just curious! I swear!” Khalid pleaded. He dared to peer around the wagon wheel and another arrow passed by his head piercing and tearing the braid he wore to the side clean off. 

By this time, he heard the others scrambling from their tents but he dare not look around the wagon again. 

“Leonie, what’s going on?” He heard Marianne’s frantic question.

“Bandits again?” Hilda asked and the heavy thunk told him she was brandishing her axe. 

“Claude was in the wagon with the professor! He saw her!” 

“So you decided to shoot him?” Ignatz asked. 

“He saw her!” Leonie said.

“That doesn’t mean he deserves to die!” Ignatz said.

“He-well no one is supposed to know about her!” 

“We were going to kill him originally anyway!” Hilda shouted, “Now where’s that raider gone?”

"Wait, please! I can see she needs serious healing! I know someone who can help!"

"Why should we trust you?" 

“Enough!” Khalid felt a crackle of magic split the air and he saw a flash of light emanate out from in front of the wagon. That hadn’t been Lysithea’s voice. 

“Claude, come out from behind the wagon. Leonie is standing down. We’re going to talk.” Khalid realized it was Lorenz speaking, he had yet to hear him raise his voice. Khalid was running escape scenarios in his head, if he could break his thumb to get free of the shackles, how far he could get, could he find anyone?

“We can’t let our guard down around him,” he heard Leonie say.

“And your arrow could have pierced the wagon and hit the professor.” Lorenz cut off her objections, “Did you think of that when you fired at him?”

“No…” 

“She appears to be in much the same condition as we left her last, but if you feel up to some more healing, Marianne, please see to her. And we don’t have all night, Claude.” Lorenz’s voice snapped him back to the present and deciding to trust the noble, he stepped out with his hands raised. 

Lorenz was standing on the front of the wagon, a pulse of magic in his left and an arrow in his right, having ripped Leonie’s arrow from the canvas flaps. He was dressed in plain linen clothes but at last had more fire in his eyes than when mounted in plate armor. 

Leonie’s bow was lowered as he promised and Hilda was leaning on her axe handle, not much left to the imagination in her nightclothes but she appeared not to care. 

Raphael and Ignatz were also armed though in similar states of undress. Lysithea looked almost like a ghost in her pale nightgown and with the glow of a magic flame in her hand. 

As Khalid approached, she tossed the flame into the remnants of their campfire and it roared to life once more. 

Lorenz sat down near the fire, "You know someone who might be able to help her recover?"

"Best healers in all of Almyra, train at the Shifa Springs in Al-Safira, the capital city. The healers are some of the finest in the world, and the springs themselves have healing properties. If anyone can help her, they'll be there." Khalid hung his head, palms sweaty as he waited to hear Lorenz's thoughts.

“Now that he mentions it, I have read about those springs.” Lysithea spoke up, “It could be worth investigating.”

"It's not like Marianne's healing had been able to help her much." Lorenz stared into the flames.

“You’re not seriously considering this?” Leonie interrupted, “Captain Jeralt had connections at the Anshan Mercenary Guild, we need to go to his contact.”

“But we don’t have Captain Jeralt, Leonie! And we don’t know that the Professor has that much time.” Lorenz’s voice broke as he spoke. 

Marianne reappeared from within the wagon, wrapped in a heavy pink shawl, “She looks worse tonight.” 

“Did he do something to her?” Hilda’s hand gripped the axe handle.

Marianne shook her head, “I think she’s just getting worse.”

“We certainly have limited options.” Lysithea agreed. 

“Fine!” Leonie was fuming as she whirled on Khalid, “But why should we trust you to take us to this mystical spring of yours?"

"I swear on all the gods that be, I will take you to the capital city." he closed his fist over his heart and swore to do so in Almyran.

"Swear to the Goddess." Khalid looked up to see Ignatz it was Ignatz who spoke. The young man was staring at him, squinting in the firelight.

"Why would he do that?" Lysithea asked. 

"Well, you were all there in Guardian Moon, you saw what happened to the Professor. Maybe she'll hear us now." the archer shrugged.

"I suppose, well if you mean it, Claude, swear to the Goddess of Fodlan, Sothis." Lorenz was testing him, though Khalid was not sure how.

"I certainly don't follow the Church of Seiros, but I will make the oath, if it lets me keep my head. What should I say?" Lorenz’s eyes widened at this response, but he did not interrupt. 

"Just talk to her, and she'll hear," Ignatz said, the sincerity in his voice troubling Khalid a bit.

"Very well, Oh Goddess of Fodlan, please hear me. I swear to take your people to the capital city and get that woman help." As he said the words, Khalid saw her in his mind, not the goddess but the woman in the wagon, he could almost see her eyes opening and he wasn't sure why but he longed to see them.

Strangely satisfied, the others retreated to their tents. Lorenz and Lysithea remained.

"Are you going to retire, Lysithea?" Lorenz asked her, still strangely composed.

"I'll take the next watch." Lysithea stared him down, her eyes challenging him but Lorenz simply shrugged and turned his attention back to Khalid.

"You can live for now, and we will trust you for now, Claude, but should you betray us, should you harm the professor, any of my friends, or stand in our way, I will burn you from the inside out. I will tolerate no obstacle." Lorenz's purple eyes seemed to glow in the flames as he spoke and Khalid swore he saw the campfire magically flare without him casting at all. 

Lorenz left them by the fire. Khalid wasn’t sure how long Lysithea intended to keep watch by the fire and though he was glad for the warmth, the silence was crushing him, and Lysithea was a possible lead he had yet to try. He searched for something, anything to say before going back to his bedroll. 

“Lorenz means business, huh?”

“We all do.” Lysithea held her hands to the fire to warm herself. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can, but don’t think my age is an indication that I will give you any more private information than Lorenz or Leonie deign to share with you.” She turned those fierce pink eyes on him.

“Point taken.” Khalid shrugged dismissively, Lysithea would not be loosing his bonds anytime soon then, “This isn’t exactly private, but I guess it is a little personal… what’s her name?”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman in the wagon, the professor? What do you call her?” Khalid shifted awkwardly, he could still feel the cold touch of her skin and the weight of her bandaged fingers in his own. What had been done to her? And would those who did this one day cross Fodlan’s throat to harm his own people?

“We were her students, we called her Professor.” Lysithea mused, “I suppose it’s not terribly private, but at the Officer’s Academy where we studied, she was hired as a teacher, and our students from Leicester were known as the Golden Deer.”

“The Golden Deer, huh, I like the sound of that. My mom was from the Leicester Alliance.” Khalid recalled truthfully, realizing a moment too late that the thought had tumbled from his mouth and in Fodlani no less.

“Oh really?” Lysithea looked at him, not as if she didn’t believe him, but that like Lorenz she was testing him somehow.

“Right hand to Goddess… is that a Fodlani thing?” Khalid asked.

She chuckled and Khalid was glad that despite everything even she could laugh. When she looked up at him again the mirth lingered in her eyes, but she was still evaluating him, “I’ll trade you then, a name for a name.”

Khalid scratched his chin thoughtfully, she was good, better than he expected. He could lie of course, but something about her gaze made him think that she would see through him this time. He didn’t know if she possessed such as spell to check, but alone by the fire like this, his lies felt thin and hollow, he desperately wanted the truth, he would have to surrender some of his own.

“Tiana.” He said and he wavered between hope and regret. It wasn’t a terribly uncommon Fodlani name, it didn’t have to link him to one Tiana in particular, and even if it did, she likely knew nothing about the Almyran royal family, but then again she certainly seemed to know more than she was sharing, they all did.

“Interesting.” Lysithea grinned and folded her hands in her lap, “The professor’s name is Byleth.” 

Byleth. Byleth. Byleth…

The name drifted through his head, becoming linked with that feeling lingering in his hand. 

“Does she have a surname?” He asked.

“Did Tiana?” Lysithea had caught him in her trap. Khalid shrugged and moved towards his spot by the wagon.

“You almost made us think you were just a simple Raider.” Lysithea called after him, “But I know that you’re more than that. Lorenz noticed too.”

Khalid didn’t react. Khalid couldn’t react. If he meant to continue this lie, he could not feed her any other information this night. He stretched out on his bedroll and willed himself to sleep. 

30th Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

“Leonie! Lorenz!” Hilda’s frantic shouts jolted Khalid awake. He got to his feet and peered around the front of the wagon. Hilda had burst from the canvas flaps, and was dusting something off her hands, shouting for her companions in the early morning sun.

All the warriors were poking their heads out of their tents, Raphael almost dropped his breakfast into the fire. 

Hilda grinned from ear to ear, her hands raised up, “The professor woke up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehhhhh three chapters in a day, I don't think I'll be doing that everyday but I was inspired to get going!


	4. An Arrow in the Bird, A Knife in the Back

30th Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

“I’m sorry everyone, but you must go slowly. Please do not crowd her out. She’s still very weak!” Marianne protested as they all gathered around the wagon. “One or two people at a time. Hilda, go start packing up! Ignatz, go wash your hands!” 

The warrior woman and the archer descended from the wagon with their eyes shining. Hilda lingered nearer the camp but as Ignatz disappeared into the brush, Khalid noted something dark on his palms. He knew they tended to the mysterious woman every morning, but he didn’t think it was blood and for that, he was just a little bit glad, but also intrigued. Was this some strange topical Fodlani medicine Ignatz needed to wash off?

Khalid was awkwardly digging his boots into the dirt, his chain stretched as far out as it would let him. He very much longed to be close enough to overhear what was said in the wagon, better yet close enough to see this mysterious Byleth, but there he found himself, over by the campfire, decidedly not listening in out of respect. 

Not one of them left the wagon with dry eyes after seeing her, but at least they were smiling. After a while, Lorenz approached him again, carrying a towel and bucket. 

“I realize we haven’t let you go very far. If you want to wash, I can extend your binds to the tree cover. We’ll be heading out soon.” Lorenz tossed him the towel. 

“I appreciate that. You certainly pick up a lot of dust here,” Khalid reached for the bucket, eager to lessen the grime on his skin.

Lorenz hesitated before handing it over, “She’s still very weak. We’d like to head for those springs you mentioned as soon as we can pack up camp.” 

“It will take a couple of weeks of travel time but I gave you my word, Lorenz, I’ll take you to the capital city.” Khalid reminded him. 

"Almyran lords have torn apart eastern Alliance territory for years, even in times of famine. Forgive me if I hesitate to trust the word of an Almyran commoner." Lorenz glared as he passed him the bucket. With a snap of his fingers, a tendril of his magic surrounded the chain and the links expanded, extending Khalid's reach greatly. Satisfied with his work, Lorenz turned away, but the omnipresent regret that surrounded him lingered. 

Khalid dragged his chains to the tree cover and set to stripping off his shirt so that he could wash. As he pulled the tunic off, he heard a squeak in the trees and he stepped back instinctively, sloshing some of the water out of the bucket. Once his head was clear of the shirt he saw a beet red Ignatz returning from the stream beyond the treeline. He was running a paint-stained rag across his glasses. 

"Apologies Claude, I did not know that you would be washing here. I do not wish to disturb you." The petite boy put his glasses back on and fixed his gaze at a point behind Khalid, on the campsite ahead of him. 

"Oh, I don't mind your presence at all, Ignatz. I actually wanted to ask you something." Khalid ignored the boy's blush and proceeded to dip into the water and wash as if he were alone. 

"What could you p-possibly want to ask me?" Ignatz stammered. 

"I wanted to ask about that mysterious teacher of yours. How is she? What did she say when she woke up? Did she look better this morning?" Khalid rattled off questions as he began scrubbing his arms. 

Ignatz groaned, "Leonie really didn't want us discussing the professor with you." 

"Come on Ignatz, can't a guy ask after her wellbeing? A woman covered in bandages sleeps for days on end then suddenly wakes up... a guy has to wonder about her health." Khalid had to keep it casual, lighthearted, these were all perfectly reasonable things to be wondering about. 

"Well, she was glad to see us all... We lost a lot resisting Edelgard when she attacked the monastery..” Ignatz seemed unsure of what else he was allowed to say.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We're just glad we haven't lost her yet... She's still very weak, and no matter what they do they can't seem to purge the dark magic from her body..."

Khalid very rarely struggled to find the right thing to say but here he was scratching his head, “Sometimes as much as you want them too, there are some things people just can’t defeat.”

“I would agree, were she any other person, but not the professor. She’s so much more than that. The professor was more than a teacher to us. She was our general in battle and our general in life. We would follow her anywhere, and we will. If anyone can help Lorenz maintain a peaceful alliance or pushback against Edelgard, it’s her.” Khalid glanced at the boy with a sad smile, he was so desperately clinging to hope. 

"Do you think she just woke up on her own? Or was it some special healing spell Marianne did?" Khalid asked.

"No, we hadn't seen to her yet. She was already trying to sit up when we checked on her this morning. Lorenz brewed her some tea and we’ve been trying to catch her up on things as gently as we can, she’s still very fatigued" Ignatz said, "The others don't believe me but I think it was Sothis who helped her wake." 

"Sothis? The Fodlan Goddess, ahh… you think the Goddess woke her up?" Khalid was amending his mental notes on the boy, he was unnervingly pious.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time she's taken a special interest in the professor." Ignatz flinched at this admission, "I mean she takes a special interest in all her children across Fodlan of course."

"Right." Khalid continued scrubbing at his skin. Ignatz was pious indeed, and maybe a little delusional about the Goddess. . .or was he? How real was the Goddess to the people of Fodlan? Khalid had no strong faith for any of the numerous beings purported to control the fates of Almyrans and though his mother had never pressed, on more than one occasion he had heard her drop her voice low in agitation or sadness and whisper “Oh, Sothis.” Perhaps he should have listened to her lessons on religion a little more intently. 

"Can I ask you a question, Claude?" Ignatz piped up, drawing Khalid out from his thoughts. 

Khalid looked at him curiously to see the young man actively appraising him, directly looking at him finally, the blush of embarrassment gone from his face.

"What's on your mind?" Khalid felt just a slight bit of discomfort under his eyes. His gaze wasn't hungry as he examined Khalid's torso, it was studious. 

"How did you get those scars?" 

Ahh. Of course. The patchwork of skin that covered his right side from hip to the hollow of his arm, or the slash across his shoulder and the neat red pucker that remained from a puncture wound just below his collarbone. Assassins, hazing, bad luck, brutish rivals--none of which he felt like sharing with Ignatz. 

"Oh you know, the life of a mercenary and a Wyvern Raider isn't very safe." He tried to play it off casually.

"Right. Stupid question. I'll leave you to it then."

~~~

4th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181

"Oh Goddess, why did Almyra have to be soooo hot?" Hilda bemoaned as she fanned herself. In spite of her bemoaning, they had made good time trekking across the Almyran terrain. Though the covered wagon was fairly large with all of their supplies there was only room enough for two additional passengers and the bedridden Byleth. Between the mounted Lorenz and Leonie, and Raphael and Ignatz driving the horses, the remaining three women had to rotate shifts of walking alongside Khalid. And no sooner had Lysithea requested a switch than Hilda began complaining.  
Following Leonie’s insistence that they avoid main roads and with slight navigation assistance from Khalid they bore away from the flatter trading routes and were climbing the mountains due east towards the capital rather than circumventing the treacherous peaks and approaching from the south. The narrow passes meant that the road could not accommodate them clustered around the wagon and so they went, Leonie leading them, the wagon next with Khalid and Hilda close behind, and Lorenz steadily bringing up the rear. 

"At least you're not wearing plate armor,” Khalid said glancing back at the purple-haired man who was surveying the mountain pass behind them, “I would hate to be a knight right about now." 

Lorenz wore dark, heavy plate and the metal positively radiated heat. His bowl-shaped hair was pressed flat to his head, he kept sweeping it off to the side to keep it from his eyes. 

Khalid was not unarmored either though, he had been wearing Almyran mail over his tunic when they captured him and though they had forcefully removed all his weapons, they had allowed him to don his armor for traveling on the roads, they even allowed him the freedom of movement without a shackle as they progressed up the mountain. Lysithea of course promised to turn him to ash if he strayed too far from their small caravan.

"I suppose you're right." Hilda said glancing at their companions, "Leonie is putting on a brave face but Lorenz is positively wilting, the poor thing." 

Hilda's leather garb was much more practical for the Almyran heat though she looked close to melting herself, constantly wiping sweat from her brow. As she continued to complain she stretched her arms up above her head and drew Khalid's attention to that giant bone axe strapped to her back. 

"So is there a story to that enormous blade?" Khalid asked. 

"Oh, Freikugel? I guess you might say it's a family heirloom. My big brother used to wield it but he was on bed rest when we left Fodlan and he entrusted it to me." Hilda reached back and ran her hand across the strange stone embedded within it and as she did so a strange glyph of light on the stone glowed and the same symbol appeared in the air near her fingertips looking almost like an eye. 

Khalid blurted out a string of curses in Almyran, his eyes widening at the crest. 

"Oh right, this special thing, some of us noble Fodlani families pass on innate abilities from generation to generation, a little bit of magic in our blood and it just comes out sometimes." Hilda explained "We call them crests. You don't have those in Almyra, do you?" 

"No, I don’t think so, they sound like a uniquely Fodlani thing. I can't say I know much about them." Khalid told a partial truth, he did feel his crest knowledge lacking, if only because he was aware there was much more to learn both about the field in general but he was also very aware of the application and uses of his own secret crest his mother passed onto him.

Khalid had studied every book his mother had on the subject and still had much to learn. He was certain now that should he find himself injured and tempted to call on his crest, his lies would shatter instantly. The Riegan crest was sure to be recognized by a future alliance leader like Lorenz, and any other crest bearing members of his warriors. 

Hilda's unwitting demonstration had also confirmed his suspicions. She was a Goneril, likely the younger sister to Holst. Holst Goneril, the Sunset General, had beaten back many Almyran raiding forces over the years, it was interesting to note that the man was bedridden recently, but terrifying to learn his successor was already deep into Almyran territory and Khalid was only guiding her further. 

Then again this could be useful to Khalid. Delivering a sworn enemy of his family to his father, and bringing several Leicester pups right into his throne room--that was certainly one way to gain an upper hand in vying for succession. 

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Hilda's voice drew him out of his schemes. 

"Sorry, I got lost in thought. I was just imagining what it would be like to have a crest power of my own, all the things I could do with it." Khalid mused, probing for more information. 

"Well they don't quite work like that, it's not something I can do all the time. Sometimes, whenever I’m actually listening to the professor and I’ve got a really powerful attack planned, I can paralyze my enemy for a short time making them unable to retaliate." Hilda took the bait, explaining her crest power to him. Ah, so that had been why he was frozen before that mighty axe when they first met. 

"Do all of you have crests?" Khalid pressed. 

"Well not all of us were from crest bearing families. The alliance is a bit more egalitarian than some other parts of Fodlan, we'll take capable soldiers of noble and common birth alike. Now that I consider it, if we didn't, we wouldn't have half our strongest fighters." Hilda wiped her brow and leaned into her hand in thought.

"So who has one?"

"Well…" 

Khalid’s heart stopped as he waited for her reply, based on their mannerisms he was fairly certain he could deduce who had a noble upbringing and who did not, but it would be invaluable to learn who might be possessing a secret, greater threat to him. 

His gamble never got the chance to pay off, a terrible screech rent the sky and the shadow of a massive Kof Vulture passed low over the wagon. These massive birds roamed the skies of Western Almyra, the smallest being the size of a pony but the largest grew past the size of a large warhorse, and the beast descending on them would have flattened a cavalry mount. 

Khalid's hands went reflexively for his bow and quiver but finding himself still unarmed he had no choice but to simply shout, "Shoot it! Shoot it down! Don't let it get too close!" 

The bird itself descended moments later, talons bared for the wagon top. The fierce clop of hooves behind him warned that Lorenz was charging forward and a blast of fire swirled through the air, singing feathers but the bird pulled out of its dive and missed the brunt of the spell. Raphael jumped down and steadied the horses at the front of the wagon. Hilda helplessly drew her axe but the bird was far out of her range. 

The bird began to circle back for another attack and Leonie’s arrow found its mark in the hollow of its wing. The bolt caused the bird to cry out, and its wings flapped at an odd angle but the creature was still able to send a massive gale their way as it approached for a second descent. 

Lysithea stood on the front of the wagon, dark tendrils of magic sizzling towards the bird but through sheer stubbornness, the creature tore through the shadows and continued barrelling towards them. Another of Leonie’s arrows lodged itself in the breast of the bird but still it’s powerful wings propelled it towards them. Ignatz clambered on top of the wagon, finding his balance, his legs straddled across the metal braces. He took aim and struck true, his arrow finding the eye of the bird and the creature tumbled from the sky. Ignatz lowered his bow and breathed a sigh of relief, but Khalid knew it would be short-lived.

"Watch out for its mate!" She shouted as another screech echoed over the mountain crying vengeance.

A strong pulse of wind from its wings had them all hunkering down and Ignatz’s precarious balance on the wagon top gave, the air pushing him from the wagon and hurtling him down the mountain.  
Or it would have, if Khalid had not lunged forward, and clasped the archer’s arm before he fell from the pass. Lysithea and Lorenz struck at the bird in tandem with their magic as Hilda helped pull Ignatz up. Lorenz scorched the bird but it managed to evade Lysithea’s blast and it barreled towards the pale mage. Khalid moved on instinct, snatching three arrows from Ignatz’s quiver and swiping the bow from the startled boy, he fired arrows in quick succession, dropping the bird just before it reached the wagon. The vulture crashed to the ground at the wagon horses' hooves and it took all of Raphael’s considerable strength to hold them steady. 

The creature gave one final screech as Leonie drove a lance into its skull and it at last lay still. 

“Tell me those things just travel in pairs.” Leonie stared at Khalid across the corpse. 

“They do, but the higher up we go, the more we’ll see,” Khalid said. He surveyed the sky as he returned Ignatz’s bow. 

“Of course!” Leonie drew her lance out and drove it into the ground. 

It took her, Raphael, Hilda, and Khalid to tip the corpse off the trail into the ravine below. Khalid dusted his hands off as they watched the bird rolling down the mountainside and he stiffened when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. 

Lorenz appeared beside him, Khalid’s confiscated bow and quiver in his hand, “If we are to encounter more of those winged demons, you’ll be needing this.” 

“Really?” Khalid asked testing the tension in the string.

“Indeed, just keep those arrows pointed at the birds.” Lorenz nodded and mounted his horse.

“Yeah, thanks for catching me, Claude,” Ignatz added bashfully.

“Yes, your arrows were well-timed as well.” Lysithea nodded at him in thanks before disappearing back into the wagon. 

“Might as well contribute something if I am to keep my head,” Khalid said smirking.

“Oh, Claude, if we wanted to kill you, we’d have done it already.” Hilda giggled as she hefted the axe onto her back and resumed her place behind the wagon. She was still there in part to watch him, but even she was beginning to let her guard down. 

Khalid fell in step with her, grinning ruefully down at his bow.

They were starting to trust him.

Excellent.


	5. Nearing the Summit

10th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181

“Claude!” 

“I got it!” Khalid loosed an arrow at her shout. The bolt caught the vulture descending above Marianne in the eye and the bird reared back into the sky allowing the priestess to blast the bird with magic. The creature screeched as the mage tore it apart. Knocked back by the force and then its flesh scorched from its bones as it melted into the air. 

Proud of his work, and a little intimidated by Marianne’s destructive prowess, Khalid leisurely knocked another arrow, his eyes on the disintegrating vulture. Khalid had fought one or two such birds in his youth, but never so many. Their group had the misfortune to stop to camp near a nest. They had thought themselves lucky to find a spacious enough clearing so high in the mountains but Raphael heard wingbeats on the wind just at the breaking of dawn, and they knew their luck had run out. One vulture after another descended upon them on the plateau. Khalid was quite certain that if they kept at it they would wipe out the species before they made it to the capital. Not that he particularly minded, the vultures were a nuisance but there was bound to be some Almyran scholar distressed at the prospect. 

Just as he was contemplating this, a screech startled him and he realized one had swooped in behind him, it's talon stretching out, razors closing in on him. 

He cursed in Almyran and stumbled backward, boots skidding in the dirt. Air rushed from his lungs as the first talon scraped near the tender flesh of his stomach. The second loomed even closer. He raised his arm up just as the talon went for his face. The bird's claws tore through his chainmail and flesh like silk. The bird grasped him tightly, pulling him up and he narrowly dodged the toothed beak snapping shut near his head. 

Still holding an arrow, Khalid drove it directly into the bird's eye socket, showering him in sanguine as it released his arm and they both dropped to the earth.

Landing in the dirt, Khalid rolled, the slightest pressure on his mangled arm bringing white spots into his vision. The bird's maw descended towards him once more, it flailed as it searched for him with its remaining eye as Khalid scrambled back. The eye at last fixed on him but before the bird could lunge for him, Hilda took its head clean off. The head flopped unceremoniously beside him, beak falling open and tongue lolling out as the bird died, emitting one final screech. He hardly had time to thank her before she was skipping off to the aid of Ignatz, chanting her name as she went. 

Khalid clutched his shredded arm and chanced a glance around the field, they were finally pushing back the vultures, those who had refused to flee were soon to meet their ends. Lysithea felled the last of them with a particularly strong blast of magic and an eerie silence descended over the mountain as the last vulture stopped squawking. Some had flown off once they were too injured to fight but between the eight fighters, they had felled half as many birds right there around their campsite. 

As the dust settled Raphael took a long look around the destruction and proclaimed, "Looks like we'll be frying up turkey vulture for a while." 

Despite all the destruction Lorenz looked vaguely horrified at the prospect, "You really want to gut them and harvest the meat? Aren't you worried it will be stringy? Or unfit for consumption?"

"One way to find out, and I'm not about to let.good fletching feathers go to waste!" Leonie brandished a large knife she withdrew from her boot. 

"Lorenz is right, don't eat them!" Khalid said struggling to get up.

Ignatz came over to help Khalid stand, "It's times like this I really miss Ashe, that guy could cook anything." 

"They're just not safe to eat," Khalid said.

"I know, but now I just miss his cooking in general,"

"He didn't decide to come with you on your ‘invade the neighboring country to escape the war’ scheme?" Khalid asked as Ignatz helped him remove the damaged mail. 

"Regrettably his loyalties lie outside the Alliance." Ignatz winced in sympathy as he peeled up the torn tunic sleeves and revealed the deep gashes in Khalid's forearm, "We had best get Marianne to look at that if you want to be firing a bow anytime soon." 

"Ooh dear," the mouse-like healer said when she saw the state of his arm, "I will do what I can to stop the bleeding now, but that will need several healing sessions and I am sorry but I am very worn out." 

"No problem," Khalid did his best to put on a sturdy face as the white magic enshrouded his arm but he tried to shift the appendage once Marianne sealed the wound and he nearly blacked out from the pain. Sealing the flesh over did nothing to repair the damage within the wounds.  
He was surprised to find a fair bit of orange taking up his vision and feel a sturdy pressure under his good arm. He realized Leonie was supporting him.

"I guess there's nothing else for it," she said leading him through the carnage that was their camp, "You'll ride in the wagon for a bit." 

"That's nice. I was waiting for the pampering to start." Khalid replied still bleary-eyed from the pain. 

Leonie propped him sitting up against the side of the wagon, his mangled left arm arranged in his lap. He leaned back against the canvas cover of the wagon and closed his eyes. 

His archery had aided Raphael and Lorenz in battle when they were pinned down earlier and he had directly saved both Marianne and Lysithea when vultures got too close within their magic ranges, but he had gotten careless. In his quest to accrue favors and lives saved he had nearly lost his own. A grave miscalculation but one that showed him the fruits of his labor. Hilda of all people had come to his rescue and Leonie had brought him into the wagon, he was gaining more trust by the day after all. 

Khalid leaned back to rest himself and sometime later he heard Marianne enter the wagon. The healer moved past him and knelt before Byleth. 

Taking the woman's wrist in her own she muttered, "Faint but steady, hang in there professor." 

Crossing her hands over Byleths chest, Claude watched healing magic bloom out from Marianne's fingertips, enshrouding all of Byleth in faint white light, even her hair looked slightly luminous.  
Marianne kept up the healing for quite a long time but eventually, she drew back from the professor and Khalid heard the timid healer actually curse. 

"Dammit, if I just could know the spell that did this. I'm sorry, professor." Marianne slapped some color back into her cheeks and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes as she moved toward Khalid. 

"I think you're an incredible healer and I'm not just saying that because the possibility of my fighting ever again depends on it,"  
"You're too kind," Marianne said reaching out

He willingly gave her his arm and once again he saw the healing magic pouring forth from her like a wellspring. Her ministrations eased the pounding ache in his limb and he had to resist the urge to flail and scratch at his arm as muscle and sinew were reunited. Marianne's spell winked out and he saw that though his injury was much improved she still had not healed his arm completely.

"Not good enough," she muttered. Her fists clenched and unclenched before she grabbed the gauze and linen for a sling.

She offered to bandage what remained but Khalid declined, taking the gauze and wrapping it himself. Once bandaged Marianne helped him tie the sling and she bowed out, unable to provide any more help at the time.

As they traveled, he let the hoofbeats lull him into a dreamless sleep. Sometime later, he was woken by a gloved hand on his uninjured arm. His hand instinctively went for his dagger at the contact, but the sheath at his waist was empty, they had only returned his bow. Thankfully though, it was not an assassin waking him, but Lorenz. 

"I apologize, I didn't mean to alarm you there, Claude, we've stopped to give the horses a rest and I needed to have a word with you," Lorenz said as he withdrew his hand and stood up to his full height. 

"What did you need?" Khalid noted that Marianne was now absent from the wagon, it was only the two of them and the sleeping professor. 

"I have some questions for you, and depending upon your answers I might have a proposition that would benefit both of us." 

Khalid stiffened, "And if my answers aren't to your satisfaction?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Lorenz's eyes darkened and Lysithea entered the wagon, seating herself opposite him, protectively near the professor. 

"Ask your questions then," Khalid said looking back at Lorenz."

"You were conscripted into service with the Wyvern Raiders, correct?" 

"I certainly didn't choose to go raiding, and I didn't choose your wagon, in particular, to attack, if that's what you're asking." Khalid let out a laugh. 

"No, you wanted to be a mercenary in Anshan, right?" Lorenz raised a thin eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I always wanted to fight for causes I chose, not those forced upon me," Khalid said. 

"So, if given the choice now, would you return to the Almyran Wyvern Raiders?" Lorenz asked. 

"No, I would go after my own dream." Khalid clutched his injured arm, what that dream was, Lorenz didn't need to know. 

Lorenz and Lysithea exchanged a glance and though no words were said some understanding seemed to pass between them. 

"We know that you have not told us everything, as is understandable for a man in your position," Lorenz said, "As we also have not revealed all of our intentions to you." 

A man in his position? He was their godsdamned prisoner!  
"Naturally." Was all he said. 

"Well, let me clarify our original goal in Anshan, we were looking for the mercenary guild not to flee the conflict in Fodlan but to hire soldiers to fight it surreptitiously." Lorenz said, "It is no secret that there is no love lost between Almyrans and the Alliance, but Almyrans repelling the empire would allow us to resist without compromising our family names and might make Alliance lords more amiable in negotiating inevitable disputes with the Almyrans." 

"An… interesting plan," Stupid. Desperate, nigh impossible yet… tempting... tempting to use, "Why are you telling me now?" 

"We would like you to be our first hire of a sort," Lorenz explained, "You've helped defend us so far and you can serve as a translator when we negotiate at inns or with the Guild. Your pay would be commensurate with your service."

Khalid had suspected this conversation was headed in such a direction, "What kind of compensation?" 

Lorenz cleared his throat, and reaching into the pouch at his waist, he withdrew a gemstone the size of an arrowhead and held it before him, "We will, of course, offer more once the job is complete in Fodlan." 

"That's quite a rock," Khalid appraised the diamond as Lorenz passed it to him, “What if I still didn’t want to join?”

“Then we would part ways in the capital with the understanding that you’re free to go about your business, so long as you do not interfere with ours,” Lorenz said.

“We didn’t kill you given the chance, it would be wise of you to remember that kindness should we part ways,” Lysithea said. 

"Your hospitality has been much appreciated," 

"Do we have a deal?" Lorenz asked. 

"I'd say this is worth my services for a while." Khalid said as he pocketed the gemstone. 

"Very well," Lorenz grinned, "Welcome to the Golden Deer." 

Khalid returned his smile, not only were they trusting him, they were paying him to lead them right to his father, how gullible these Fodlani must be. Lorenz slipped out of the wagon and Khalid examined the gemstone further, only looking up he discovered Lysithea still studying him and she did not look happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ending up longer than I planned and taking a bit longer for me to get everything out. I promise Byleth and Khalid/Claude will finally interact soon.


	6. Sparks in the Air

11th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

Riding in the wagon was a much easier way for him to travel. Lysithea still glared daggers at him whenever they shared the wagon but just as often Marianne was resting, or Hilda was there, entertaining him with her antics. 

Around midday, he and Marianne had settled into their respective wagon corners and began napping once more. All was quiet in the wagon except for the healer’s soft snores. Khalid heard someone shifting beside him and sensing their motion he opened his eyes to see that Byleth was stirring. As he dozed, he had shifted closer to the professor. If he wanted to, his uninjured hand could reach out and stroke that midnight hair. Though of course there was no reason he should want to do such a thing, no matter how delicate she looked. 

He was just chastising himself for such a thought, her eyes snapped open and stared into his own. They were such a bright green they startled him, and for a moment he could do nothing but blink back at them. 

"W-we haven't met yet," Byleths voice was gravelly and weak. 

"Really? You sleep through an entire flock of Kof Vultures and now you just wake up." Khalid shook his head in exasperation, "You're an odd one…"

"Sorry… still sleepy…." Byleths eyes fluttered open and closed again, "Thirsty… too…" 

Khalid sighed and glanced out the front of the wagon, Raphael and Ignatz were animatedly discussing trade routes in southern Fodlan and Marianne was still snoring away.

In spite of his injured arm in the sling, Khalid used his good hand to reach for his waterskin. After struggling for some time to unhook it, he was able to draw it up. Pulling the cork out with his mouth he gently lowered the waterskin to Byleth. Seeing his intentions she moved to sit up slightly and taking the skin in her bandaged hands she drank slowly but gratefully. 

"Thank you." She said as she passed it back to him, "I'm Byleth," 

"So I've heard," Khalid said studying her. There was so much he wanted to ask her but staring at her, he found himself unable to start. 

"Oh? Have my students been exaggerating tales about me again?" She asked with a wide innocent expression and guilt began to pool in Khalid's stomach, "Who might you be? Did they hire an Almyran guide?"

"Something like that," Khalid smiled and had to stop himself from offering his true name, "You can call me Claude." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Claude." 

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine." 

Byleth chuckled hesitantly but her amusment quickly turned to coughing and she sank back down onto the blankets. She gave him a slight nod as she lay down again.

"We'll talk more when I'm … truly awake." She closed her eyes and Khalid found himself staring at her again. 

He was glad he got to meet this mysterious passenger but what could he use from that exchange? Was she really so important to their resistance effort that they would haul her all this way without a fully formed plan? She wasn't a political bargaining chip-was she? She was a professor at a school run by the church of Seiros, was she important to the church? She looked very young to be a professor, yet her students used the title for her without fail. As weak as she was, why were they doing so much for her? 

This woman was dying, he had to remind himself. In the end, whatever designs they had for her would likely fail. Even if they got to the capital within the week he still held out very little hope that this woman would be with them when they got there and even if she was once there, everything would change. 

14th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

Khalid was growing restless. Since agreeing to Lorenz's bargain, all of his possessions had been returned to him, but he could still feel them watching him, only Marianne and Ignatz seemed completely at ease with him. Marianne had completely healed his arm, he had assisted Leonie in hunting dinner the previous night and the muscles and tendons flexed in his arm as good as new, not the slightest bit of pain in his draw, which made him all the more impressed with Marianne’s skills and all the more concerned for the woman who could barely get up on her own. 

Byleth woke more frequently over the last few days. She actually ventured out of the wagon when they made camp now, very slowly and always with Marianne's assistance. She still slept most of the days away and while her hands were finally exposed, her arms and torso were still heavily bandaged. 

It was odd seeing her join them around the fire. He did not have a chance to talk with her since that afternoon in the wagon, but she consumed much of his thoughts. He returned from gathering water one evening and nearly dropped the bucket, Byleth was out of the wagon, dressed in plain black clothes and running through sword forms with a long stick before the fire.

Marianne was begging her not to push herself and Leonie was matching the professor’s strikes with a stick of her own. Byleth baited Leonie in and when the lancer thrust forward, Byleth parried with such force Leonie’s stick snapped. It would have been a mildly impressive maneuver, were it not for the fact that the motion seemed to dizzy Byleth and she clutched her head, nearly toppling over. She was ushered back into the wagon by the healer but not before telling Leonie to drill the maneuver with Lysithea before they went to bed. 

Despite Byleth’s dizzy spell, the Fodlani were in much-improved spirits. Hilda was braiding cord for a necklace for Marianne. Lysithea and Leonie progressed with their drills, now supervised by Lorenz. Ignatz was sketching again, with Raphael watching over his shoulder, constantly asking him to change or adjust something about the picture. 

Khalid seated himself near them, feigning interest in the drawing in an attempt to pocket a charcoal pencil and some paper. Ignatz was clearly talented, but Raphael just could not be satisfied with the portraiture and Ignatz threw his work up in distress. Raphael grumbled something about trying again tomorrow and went off towards his tent. Ignatz laid his head in his hands and released a long-suffering sigh. With no one else watching, Khalid made his move, snatching up the half-broken charcoal Ignatz cast aside. The artist began to pack up his supplies and take stock of the pigments in his paint set. Khalid leaned over the kit and rested his hand on some of his sketching paper.

The paints were of fine quality, it looked like the entire set had been a gift to the artist. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens, violets, but one pigment, was worn much lower than the others, and yet Khalid rarely saw him paint while they traveled.

“It looks like you’re going to have to restock your blue soon,” Khalid nodded towards the pigment tray. 

Ignatz looked up from his bag and saw Khalid eyeing his paints and quickly shut the kit, “Um, yes, of course… I need more to finish my… my painting of the stars, right!” 

As the artist hurriedly put the kit away Khalid ripped a piece of paper and crumpled it in his hands. Ignatz was so focused on packing everything up he didn’t notice. That was a much stronger reaction than he expected him to have, why would he be so protective of his pigment? 

Khalid left the artist and went to sleep, still sorting out his new insights, he would write his message in the dawn. 

15th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

The next day brought with it heavy storm clouds and when they stopped to resupply in a small mountain village, Khalid used the cover of rain to fall behind and slip his message to a courier. He only hoped the weather would not keep his message from reaching the capital ahead of them. 

When he returned to the Golden Deer he glanced around to make sure he had not been missed but they were all watching Ignatz and Raphael engaging with some actual traveling Fodlani merchants. They seemed to be very close, although when pressed as to their presence in Almyra, Ignatz would only say that it was a business venture. After parting ways with the merchants Ignatz brought his palettes and pigment kits before Khalid, sure to show him that he had restocked all of his supplies, stressing every color. Khalid acknowledged the supplies with a bemused smile, and asked if Ignatz was going to paint his companions, the artist was suddenly tongue-tied and blushing, saying, of course, that was why he needed to restock all his paints frequently as it was such a big undertaking. He was such a terrible liar.

No longer recovering from his injury or a prisoner, Khalid found himself offered rotating shifts in the wagon, a temporary haven from the hail, and rain. When he was not in the wagon, he found himself walking behind again, trudging through the mud with Lysithea, who only seemed increasingly suspicious of him. 

They trekked beyond the village through the afternoon, and Khalid noted Byleth was more active than before. Lorenz purchased a horse for her at the mountain village and during a break in the rain, Byleth rode for a short while.

Khalid was studying her when he heard a small cough beside him. He glanced down to see Lysithea looking at him with a strangely earnest expression, “Did you need something?” he asked.

“I was wondering, could you teach me some Almyran, Claude?” she looked up at him sweetly enough.

“Why?” he asked, not so much suspicious as surprised, few Fodlani he met bothered to learn a language outside their own. 

“I have always been curious about learning new things, and I-I think it would help the group for me to learn.” Lysithea avoided his gaze slightly. 

“You just want my job as a translator,” Khalid tested.

“No, I just-just there’s someone I want to speak to in Almyran. That’s all.” Lysithea blushed as she spoke.

“Oh? And who is this Almyran fella?”

“I never said he was a fella!” Lysithea pouted and realizing what she just admitted, let loose a cry of indignation.

Khalid laughed, “Of course, I’ll teach you.” 

“Oh, thank you!” Lysithea looked relieved and for the first time, her age. 

Khalid started explaining formal versus informal Almyran pronunciation, but before he began teaching in earnest, Byleth dismounted and led her horse to them. The weather was worsening and so she was offering her horse to Lysithea before retiring to the wagon to rest. The exhaustion hung heavy beneath her eyes but they were shining brighter than before. She was a natural on horseback, but she and Lysithea discussed their preferences for pegasi as Byleth handed off the mount, thunder rumbling closely above their heads. 

He watched her fanning herself as she finished talking to the young mage and just before she turned to go to the wagon, she fixed him with that intense green gaze of hers. It took her a moment but a second later she smiled as if the gesture were still new to her and she had to remind herself to do so. Lightning flashed behind her and Khalid was transfixed again. Maybe she would survive to see the capital, and Khalid could investigate this strange professor further. 

It took him a moment to realize she had asked him a question, “Sorry, lost in thought, what was that?”

“And which mount do you prefer?” Byleth repeated as the rain began anew in earnest.

“Ah, wyverns of course.” Khalid said, “I’d be happy to give you a flying lesson sometime.”

“Of course he would,” Lysithea muttered.

“Perhaps one day,” Byleth nodded completely serious as she turned towards the wagon. 

“She’s something else, huh?” Khalid watched her go, the hair on his neck standing on end.

“Indeed she is, now teach me some Almyran.” Lysithea insisted. 

Khalid opened his mouth to speak but before he could the sky flashed white. Lightning crashed out of the sky in front of him, the heat singing his face and hands but it found its mark on the brace bolts near the back of the wagon, igniting the canvas flaps. They could only stare in horror and the screams coming within told him that---

~~~

“She’s something else, huh?” Khalid watched her go, the hair on his neck standing on end. 

Byleth stopped walking towards the wagon and adjusted her stance like she expected a fight, her eyes were fixated on the sky.

“Indeed she is, now teach me some Almyran.” Lysithea insisted. 

Khalid opened his mouth to speak but before he could, the sky flashed white. Lightning crashed out of the sky in front of him and as it did Byleth launched herself at the wagon, pulling herself up by the metal brace, she leaned over the top and a blast of magic emanated from her hand, just as the lightning came crashing down to her.

Having already cast the spell, a fortifying shield of energy passed over the entire wagon, and everyone in their small band was bathed in a soft glow, the fortifying energy washing over them all. Byleth emanated rays of light as the magic flowed from her, deflecting the lightning, the magic outlining her against the dark storm clouds in the sky, she looked to Khalid like she descended from the heavens herself. Just as quickly as it had come, the lightning fizzled out and so too, did Byleth.

Her magic sparked and then the shield faded in patches until it disappeared completely. His heart dropped out of his chest as her grip on the wagon slackened and her head lolled to the side. Khalid’s feet moved of their own volition and suddenly he was there with his arms outstretched as she fell entirely limp. Her body crashed into his arms. She was unconscious and cold, the remnants of the green magic energy still pulsing around her. 

This incredible, foolish woman had been faster than lightning. No wonder the Golden Deer were so insistent on curing her. She had saved them all--and wiped out days of healing progress in a flash.


	7. A Shadow in the Sky

16th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

How could someone so innocent looking have such immense power beneath their brow? A brow that was presently dripping in sweat as Khalid carried her into the wagon.

"Gently, Claude, Gently," Lorenz said as they surrounded the front of the wagon. Hilda and Leonie spread the blankets flat on the wagon. Marianne was already kneeling there beside him with healing magic blooming over her hands. 

Khalid knelt in front of the blankets. He laid her down and Marianne leaned over her, muttering spells as fast as she could, hands folded, frantically summoning healing magic. Lysithea pushed passed him and added her own faint white magic pulse to her efforts. 

Khalid stared at Byleth’s face illuminated in the magic, her eyes had not opened since he caught her. As the healing aura spread, her face settled into an expression of contentment and Khalid was certain she would not be long for the world. His hands clenched into fists uselessly in front of him. 

"Should we put the Sword of the Creator in her hands?" Hilda asked, glancing at the burlap wrapped sword near the supply crates and Khalid's ears perked right up. 

"Why would that help?" Leonie asked. 

"Maybe it will activate her crest," Hilda said. 

"It couldn't hurt to try." Leonie stepped around the focused mages and moved towards the parcel. He could feel Hilda watching him watch Leonie's careful handling of the blade as she unwrapped it. 

Khalid was quite sure he had overstayed his welcome in the wagon. He got to his feet and backed out of the canvas top, his heart thudding loudly as he processed this new development. Not only was Byleth strong enough to fight off lightning but she wielded the Sword of the Creator and had a compatible crest with it.

His mother had made sure Khalid was well aware of the legends of the weapons of the elite Fodlani families, including his own should he ever deign to visit, but where truth and legend met he was never quite sure. One need only hear the stories of the Sunset General wielding an axe of bone at Fodlan’s border fortress to know the power of these relics, and Hilda's performance with such a weapon revealed they were very real, gifts from the goddess or no. Yet the Sword of the Creator, that truly was the stuff of fairytales. Such tales he had poured over and over and deemed a story, a fantasy, and yet that ancient blade was supposedly so very close to him. The sword that could cut a mountain in half...

Khalid's thoughts were as turbulent as the sky. The rain was still falling heavily, a cool relief against his neck. Ignatz was seated motionless at the wagon reins, his face slick with tears or rain. Raphael was still beside him, his face obscured. 

"How are you holding up?" Khalid asked as he climbed down. 

Ignatz shook his head and asked, "Why did she have to do it? Why does she have to keep pushing herself to the brink of death for us?" 

Khalid shrugged, "I really don’t know, Ignatz, but I know that we should keep moving, the sooner we can get to some cover, the less likely we are of encountering more lightning. You and I should round up the other horses while everyone is seeing the professor and then we should get moving." 

"He's right," Raphael said as he straightened up. 

"But Lorenz…" 

"-is right here," the purple-haired knight emerged behind them.

Khalid briefly wondered if he would object to him giving orders, but Lorenz simply nodded and seconded Khalid’s plan, moving towards his own horse, "Ignatz, go get Leonie's mount. Claude, do you think you can handle the professor's horse?" 

"Leave it to me," 

They stopped for camp not long after. It was still early in the afternoon but with the storm beating down upon them they could advance no further. 

They remained in their tents sheltered against the rain and took turns patrolling in a high collared cloak, the Almyran desert chill reaching them even as the storm abated.

That night they were all on edge to see if Byleth would make it to the morning. Though he was no longer expressly forbidden from seeing her, Khalid still felt as though the Golden Deer would not be thrilled to discover him seeking out their professor, but after that afternoon, he had to see her, and that sword. 

It was Raphael’s turn to keep watch, and he was truly the worst lookout of the group. He was mercilessly tearing into strips of dried meat by the fire. He usually hummed while he kept watch, but on this night he was deadly silent as he pulled apart the jerky, stress eating Khalid reasoned. 

Khalid knew how to be even quieter though and he kept along the side of the wagon, Gently measuring the weight of his steps as he climbed inside. 

"Oh, it's you." 

A cold chill ran down Khalid's spine as he closed the wagon flap and turned to see the speaker. Byleth was conscious again, but she seemed to be actively fighting to stay that way. She had propped herself up against one side of the wagon and she shivered despite the sweat on her brow. She looked up at Khalid with one eye partially closed, the other straining wide open to see.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she strained herself with each word. 

"I didn't expect you to be awake," Khalid said truthfully. 

"Why did you come in here then?" She asked. She readjusted her hands in her lap but Khalid noticed her hands drifted slightly nearer to the sword beside her. 

"I thought Marianne might be in here and I wanted to bring her these," Khalid rummaged in his pack and withdrew a vial of crushed red flower petals, "They're used in Almyran painkillers, I thought she might be able to mix them into medicine for you." 

"I … appreciate the thought," Byleth released a pained yawn and said, "I know I should be sleeping," 

Khalid crept closer and seated himself opposite her, "So, why aren't you?" 

"Marianne told me that you were the one who carried me in here," Byleth said, "And that you were the one who caught me when I fell… thank you." 

"I'm just glad I could help." Khalid couldn't quite meet her gaze.

Byleth looked at her hands and asked, "So you were going to be a mercenary in Anshan?" 

"Something like that," Khalid shrugged. She really wanted to talk about this now? 

"Is Nezir the Nefarious still running a tight operation?" 

Ahh, she was testing him, "I'm not sure how recent your news is, but Nezire died about ten years ago," Khalid said, "My mother mourned him quite some time."

"Ahh, that's unfortunate… he was one of my father's closest allies." Byleth said, either masking any reaction with her pain or simply not reacting to the news.

"He's not who Leonie was hoping to meet in Anshan, was he? Some contact of Jeralt the Blade Breaker?" Khalid asked. 

"Ah," Byleth winced and he saw that her eyes were watery, "No, my father had others." 

Father? Jeralt? Some of the amorphous puzzle pieces that were Byleth the professor were beginning to take shape, but why was she staying awake despite the obvious pain?

"Did you want me to get Marianne? Or Lorenz to brew a sleeping tea?" He asked. 

"No! I'm… fine...." she pressed her fingers to her temple. 

"And I'm going to sprout antlers," Khalid deadpanned. 

"Well Lorenz did want you to be an unofficial Golden Deer," Byleth said. 

She released a short chuckle and immediately clutched her torso with a gasp and Khalid regretted his joke. He couldn’t help himself, while she was doubled over he glanced at the blade beside her, like Hilda’s Freikugel, this sword seemed to be made of bone sections, what bone he could not identify. Unlike Hilda’s, there was no stone in this weapon, but a cavern in the hilt where one might have been. Byleth forced herself to sit up again and Khalid turned his attention back to her, his expression sympathetic. 

"So why become a mercenary?" She asked after a moment, still ignoring his questions about sleep. 

"My mom was an official guild member, thought, why not follow in her footsteps? But I never got the chance." Khalid once again blended truth and lies. 

"I suppose it does lend itself to being something of a family business," Byleth mused, straining to keep her voice level, "I trained all my life with my father,"

"As did I," Khalid said, "Did he know many in the Guild?" 

Byleth nodded, confirming what he'd worked out, "He knew most of them, he never took me to Almyra but he told me much … of his journeys there before I was born," 

"Interesting stories, I'm sure," Khalid saw that she was struggling to focus and chanced a glance at the sword's engravings. 

"You know, he told me of a Fodlani noblewoman turned Almyran mercenary once," Byleth said and Khalid's throat went dry. 

Trying not to react but yet unable to look away from her he said, "How unusual," 

The strain was really showing in her face now, "Indeed, I always thought..." 

She doubled over and heaved a desperate breath of air. Surely this was an interesting fact to her, not something pointed she knew, right?

"I think I should really get Marianne." He said. 

"No, I just need to sleep," Byleth said and despite her words, she forced herself upright again. 

"Then I'll get out of here so you can do that," Khalid started to rise. 

"I can't. I won't." She shook her head and Khalid found himself stepping closer to her. 

"Now what kind of an example is that setting for your students, Teach?" He asked, leaning over her, hand on his hip. 

“I have… to resist it…” She looked ready to collapse back into the blankets despite her words. 

"I'm afraid that if I sleep, I won't wake again, for a very long time…. There's magic at war in me… and this drive to sleep, it's more than mundane. I… knew someone who didn't…" Byleth’s eyes shuttered and Khalid wasn't sure why he found his fingers closing around hers in a comforting pat. 

He meant to draw them back but her fingers grasped his own once more as she squeezed his hand in pain, "I don't want to sleep my life away," 

"Listen, Byleth," Khalid said, "I'm not sure I understand your objections to sleep exactly, but I do know that you've got to get better and sooner rather than later. All your students are counting on you, and the best way for you to start healing is to get some rest. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll be up and recovered." 

"But what if I sleep too long?" Byleth pressed. 

"That's why they've hired me," Khalid said, "I'll pick up the slack while you sleep in, now don't you worry," 

"You promise.... until I wake up?" 

"I made a deal with Lorenz," One he was not entirely genuine about keeping but for some reason, he couldn't bear the thought of directly lying to her. 

"I'll, I'll try…" she released his hand at last, her face still wrinkled in pain. She sank down into the blankets and finally seemed to surrender to the need to sleep. 

"I'll get Marianne, just to look over you once before the night is over." Khalid backed out of the wagon. 

"Thank you, Claude."

Guilt washed over him as he went for the healer. When they returned to the wagon, Marianne set about to channeling more white magic into Byleth, saying that she was markedly weaker. Khalid leaned nearby and while he looked on with concern, he also glanced beyond the women at the weapon beside them. He could almost see it pulse faintly red. The blade itself looked to be made in sections, none of which overlapped, he wondered how the sword was fused together, how did one forge bone? Was magic imbued in the blade?

“Claude,” Marianne drew him from his thoughts, “What do I need to do to use these dried petals?”

“Just crush them up and mix them into whatever you give her.” Khalid shrugged and an involuntary yawn escaped him, "Be sure not to use more than a few petals though, or they'll knock her out for even longer." 

“It sounds like you should get some rest as well,” Marianne examined the dried petals closely. He noticed she tucked the vial away rather than pour it out, perhaps she didn’t trust him entirely yet, he couldn’t say that he blamed her. He turned to go and she called after him in thanks. 

Khalid returned to his tent and wondered if the Fodlani deity or any of the Almyran gods were watching their strange little band of travelers and what they could possibly be thinking. He went to sleep dreaming of that mysterious sword and how it flashed like fire in Byleth’s hands. He saw her cutting down monsters, breaking walls, breaking Fodlan’s Locket. 

In the morning, nothing they did could wake her. 

18th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

They were so close to the capital now, they’d reach it within the day. Ignatz was eagerly discussing the meal they would get for Raphael to celebrate his birthday, and all their spirits were gradually raising, as well as their appetites. They were crossing the plateau that would lead them to Al-Safira and they had begun to encounter other travelers with increased frequency, mostly merchants and peasants but Khalid began to worry with each step that he would be recognized. 

His more ignorant countrymen muttered insults of ‘half-breed’ upon seeing him now and his blood boiled. He was their prince, but objecting to their slurs would get him nowhere. The Fodlani seemed to notice his colder reception and this seemed to bolster their confidence in him. 

They were all increasingly concerned for Byleth. She had yet to wake since the night of the lightning storm and Khalid was surprised that she was still alive. Despite this, it was evidently Raphael’s birthday and Lysithea was whispering questions about Almyran pastries in between requests for lessons. Hilda looked quite uncomfortable riding the professor’s horse but Lysithea insisted she did not want the mount and instead chose to walk behind the wagon with Khalid, asking him about Almyran phrases.

“What are the words for mother and father?” Lysithea asked.

Khalid answered in Almyran and Lysithea repeated the words slowly and deliberately, she did not struggle with pronouncing the language as much as he expected, perhaps the Almyran she wished to speak with had taught her a few phrases before. 

“So where did you meet this Almyran who you’re trying to impress?” Khalid asked.

Lysithea blushed, “It doesn’t matter.”

“I take it you didn’t meet him in Almyra then?”

“Well, if you must know, I met him at the officer’s academy at Garreg Mach,” Lysithea continued to repeat these newest Almyran words under her breath.

Khalid was surprised, he had turned down his mother’s offer to study in Fodlan at that very school they had all attended last year, but why would an ordinary Almyran attend school there?

“Oh? Was he a student? What was his name?” Khalid asked.

“No, he was not a student and his name is Cyril,” Lysithea said.

“Cyril is not an Almyran name,” 

“Neither is Claude,” Lysithea snapped protectively. 

“True,” Khalid mused, and casting his eyes skyward, he felt dread knotting in his stomach. A wyvern patrol was passing over the road and leading them, a white wyvern. Had his missive not reached the capital in time?

Khalid called out for Lorenz, “That’s a royal scouting party, try not to look suspicious.”

“Oh? And how can you tell?" 

"Almyran royalty are gifted those white wyverns when they come of age," Khalid pointed to the wyvern leading the others as they circled the sky. 

"So how do you propose we blend in better?” Lorenz pulled back on his reins, letting the wagon catch up to him.

“Try to look less rainbow?”

“Oh yes, I’ll work on that right away,” Lorenz scoffed at him. 

“Definitely do something about that hair, but in all seriousness, as soon as you can, you and Hilda should swap into the wagon.”

“Not a bad idea, we do have the most unusual hair,” Lorenz fluffed the bowl-shaped mop on his forehead with pride and Khalid was thankful his mother had never tried to foist such a Fodlani style onto him. “I don’t like not riding but at least we’ll be less conspicuous.” 

Khalid was pleased to see they followed his advice, giving Lysithea and himself a chance to ride, making them less obvious. The only downside was that this allowed Lysithea to continue peppering him with questions. Khalid was even more pleased when the scouting party disappeared over the horizon, apparently not interested in their little group. 

Khalid was almost convinced they would make it into the capital unnoticed, but as they entered the most narrow stretch of the mountain pass, a shadow blocked out the sun. Casting his eyes skyward he saw the royal scouting party returned, with even more riders. Thirty of them descended from the sky. The Fodlani drew their weapons but a magic-infused blast of sand and air subdued their attempts to draw. Khalid struggled against the gale and let loose every curse he knew as the massive white wyvern descended in front of their wagon. This would certainly expedite things.

Khalid had no time to think of any scheme to get the Fodlani to the capital now without handing over at least some of the glory to his brother. Even if they could repel the landing party and he could lie their resemblance would not go unnoticed. Dressed in fine red silks and Almyran mail, his eldest brother, the crown prince dismounted and grinned at him. The other riders surrounded them, spears and war axes all squaring off with the Fodlani. Leonie was trading blows with a raider, Raphael was doing his best to punch away war axes but two riders together were stronger than even his armored knuckles. Ignatz had tried to pick them out of the sky once more but he was caught at unawares and helplessly flailing a sword as he defended against a raider. Even an Almyran caster trained his magic on Lysithea and she could only contain his magic from hitting her comrades, no time to return fire. The Fodlani would have no choice but to surrender to such overwhelming numbers, but that certainly didn’t stop them from trying. 

Hilda launched herself from the wagon directly at the white wyvern and its descending rider. Khalid thanked the gods as his brother knocked her axe aside with a dancer’s grace. Hilda went face-first into the dirt and he saw his brother raise his spear, his wyvern’s claw descending on the fallen warrior and holding Hilda pinned to the ground. His brother’s spear had a clear shot at her throat.

Khalid rushed forward and called out to him in Almyran, “Hassan, keep them alive please!” 

His brother’s spear stilled and he turned his attention to Khalid. He was relieved his plea had worked, half expecting Hassan to ignore him, but his brother actually looked happy to see him. 

"It's good to see you, brother, and I appreciate the welcoming party, but did you not get my message about proceeding with discretion?" Khalid asked.

"Subtlety was always your strong suit, not mine," Hassan grinned.

Before he could reply to him, Lorenz burst from the wagon, hair swept awry from the wind magic, his eyes wide with fury as he raised his lance. 

“We can still beat them, Claude!” The purple-haired boy aimed his lance at Hassan, but Khalid stepped behind him. Unintimidated, Hassan waited, smirking at them both. 

Lorenz was a little taller than Khalid, but in his harried state, it was all too easy to slip his bow down passed Lorenz’s face and dig the arrow rest into his collarbone, pulling back on the recurve of the bow limbs, he yanked Lorenz down to his knees.

“No, my friend, you cannot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had some essays to catch up on.


	8. A Life Owed and Loyalty Lost

18th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

“You were supposed to wait for me,” Khalid said in angry Almyran, "I was so close to Al-Safira, I can see it from here!" 

“What can I say?” Hassan shrugged innocently, “Father was getting worried.” 

“Claude!” Lorenz shouted as two Almyrans tried to restrain his arms, “We had a deal, Claude!”

An Almyran guard struck Lorenz across the face and Khalid’s voice boomed across the mountain, “The Fodlani are my prisoners and they will be treated with respect.” 

Hassan snickered as Khalid stared down his men. Hearing no contradiction from the elder prince, the soldiers continued to bind Lorenz, albeit a little less forcefully. 

The soldiers lined the Fodlani up one by one and two moved to enter the wagon. Khalid stopped them, “You’ll find a sick woman in there, I want her moved carefully.”

“Claude? What’s going on?” Marianne asked as they bound the diminutive healer’s hands and pushed her in line beside the strawberry warrior. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hilda spit in the dirt, no less than three men holding her arms in place as another admired her axe. 

“I told you to remember our kindness.” Lysithea’s words chilled him as Hassan’s caster tied her in a magical binding. “We will not forget your betrayal.” 

The caster binding her hesitated, the purple glow of the binds reflecting the magic crackling in her eyes, fierce even in chains. 

“Quite an interesting bunch, you’ve brought me,” Hassan said, turning his attention back to his brother.

“They’re my prisoners, brother. Mine to present to Father. I was perfectly capable of bringing them into the city all on my own.” Khalid said leaning on his bow. 

“Yes, yes, brother dear, and your mother was quite eager to see you.” Hassan waved towards the city atop the mountain, “We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting any longer, I just had to make sure you made it home today.”

“Is she with the king?” 

“You expect me to keep track of her?” He asked. Tiana was known for serving her kingdom well, the picture of benevolent nobility beside her fierce husband, yet she was also known for frequently escaping her escorts leaving her regal facade behind at court and without her royal frippery, she lived the glory days of a retired mercenary. From time to time she would venture out and explore the city, brawl in the arena, drink in taverns, and come and go as she pleased. One of her unofficial titles was the Untameable, which she hated and his father found hilarious. 

“Fair enough,” Khalid said as the Almyrans began marching, “I’ll find her after I bring these prisoners before father.”

“Don’t you mean we?”

~~~

There are few marvels of opulent architecture that can rival the Sky Throne, or so Khalid has heard. Three intricate gold plated wyverns, nearly the size of their living brethren, stand guard around the chair. They were carved with such skill and detail that they look ready to pounce on any advisor or petitioner who might displease the monarchs. The throne itself is a large velvet plush couch, raised up above the court, guarded by these guilded beasts, two crouch near the base, and one reared back behind the chair with its wings outstretched. The entire sculpture sits just below a tinted glass dome which reflects the intricate geometric patterns of colored plates designed to reflect the night sky down onto Kamal the Conqueror's shoulders even as he hears the business of the day. The raised platform and ample cushions have room for two occupents, but that day he sat alone, leaning back in his long white robes, a chalice in his left hand, a decorative war ax resting near his right. He struck a fearsome picture scowling as his advisors gathered at the base of the throne and pled their cases for increased taxes or relayed details of approving a new aqueduct. 

When guards pushed open the massive doors to the throne room to first reveal the crown prince and his youngest, the scowl that had crested his brow for the last moon finally faded. He dismissed his advisors with a wave as he rose to his feet and descended the stairs to meet them.

“My sons, I am glad to see you! Hassan, you have brought back your brother! Khalid, my boy, you have returned to me.” Kamal stretched his arms wide in a gesture of welcome and both princes bowed their heads.

“Khalid was well on his way to bringing himself back,” Hassan said as he rose from his bow.

“Is that so?” the king asked, scrutinizing the mischievous glint in the eyes of his youngest. He took only a moment before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Mildly embarrassed, but nonetheless glad to return to his old man with his life, Khalid hugged him back before squirming free and clearing his throat to call the guards inside. 

“I bring you a gift, father,” Khalid gestured behind him. Royal guards ushered in the captive Fodlani one by one. Ignatz and Raphael came quietly radiating terror and rage respectively. The ever dignified Lysithea seemed to float in followed by a trembling Marianne, a downright feral Hilda, the stoic Leonie, and the downcast Lorenz, who was almost bodily dragged into the throne room. Byleth was in fact bodily carried into the room, head hanging down but Khalid saw her struggling to open her eyes. Khalid felt a pang of worry at the state of her, but with her escorts came two more guards, one carrying Freikugel and the other the Sword of the Creator.

“Quite the spoils of war you’ve brought me, boy,” his father examined Freikugel and cast his gaze over the Fodlani, “Are these the warriors who delayed you at the border?”

“They are, father. They disguised themselves as merchants and crossed into our lands,” Khalid said.

“For what purpose could they have been doing so? Spying on Almyran territories?” His father was appraising a dejected Lorenz, none of the prisoners were looking at them, save Lysithea who met the king's appraising stare and returned it with hatred. 

“I believe several of them to be of Fodlani nobility, from a few prominent families on the Leicester Alliance Roundtable, no less,” Khalid gestured to them, the praying Marianne, dejected Lorenz, stoic Lysithea and still struggling Hilda.

“Quite the victory my sons, I’m sure your mother will be certain to help us ascertain the value of such colorful captives,” Kamal ran his fingers through his beard as he considered them. 

“The. Queen. Will. Not.” Though the words were spoken quietly the entire room fell eerily silent as the speaker glided into the throne room. Tiana, the Wrath of the West was an emerald shade framed in the golden doorway. She was dressed in flowing green silk brocades, making her eyes glow brightly as she strode before them. Bangles and beads draped over her could not obscure the muscles corded hard along her arms from years of fighting that were clenched now in anger. Everyone seemed to shrink from her as her sandals clacked against the dark marble floor, even the king looked uncertain in the face of such rage, “The queen will not appraise children to be sold back to Fodlan like cattle.”

Before the king or Khalid could respond, another angry voice drew their attention, “Leicester would not pay for us anyway!” 

Khalid’s stomach was full of stones as Lysithea proclaimed in halting Almyran, “We are worth nothing to the Alliance now,” 

“That is not what my sons tell me, little one,” Kamal spoke in Fodlani.

Switching tongues, Lysithea went on, “What your sons do not know is that the Leicester Alliance is losing a war to the Adrestian Empire, and rather than supporting the Empire, we have fled here in search of mercenaries, all of us disowned, those of us who had lands and titles to abandon anyway.” 

“The Alliance and Empire are at war?” his mother asked. 

“Did Claude not mention that?” Lysithea spit in his direction and Khalid sheepishly rubbed his head.

“It’s actually Prince Khalid,” he said.

“I don’t give a damn,” Lysithea turned to his mother, “Edelgard von Hrselveg took her father’s life and his crown. She has declared war on the entire continent, she marches over Fhirdiad and she is at Leicester’s gates though they will crumble from within long before she invades,” 

“How unfortunate for Fodlan,” Hassan muttered.

“Father,” Tiana said, her face a mask of shock, “Tell me how fares the Alliance Roundtable?”

“Divided, many are for the Empire, but there are a few who will stand against,” Lysithea said, "We did not expect aid from the Almyran crown, but we had hoped to hire Almyran might from your guild," 

“And Duke Riegan?”

“Ailing, but ruling,” Lysithea shrugged and staring the king down she said, “They will not stop at Leicester, Edelgard wants to remake the world. I am sure she would march her demonic army across the mountains after she has conquered all of Fodlan,” 

“Demonic army?” Khalid asked. 

Tiana turned to her husband and whispered in Almyran, “We must send them back, and I must go back with them,” 

“They are your sons’ prisoners,” Kamal said.

“And I don’t see why they should go back,” Khalid said, “But I would like to hear about this demonic army, that’s one thing none of you cared to mention yet.” 

“I, for one, don’t see why they should live, they held a prince of Almyra captive for half a month, it doesn’t matter how important they are to their homeland,” Hassan stared down the white-haired mage, disdain in his eyes, “We cannot appear weak.” 

“We defeated your prince, and we saved his life on multiple occasions,” Lysithea sneered at Hassan, "You already appear weak."

“Is this true, Khalid?” his father asked.

“Well now, you hadn’t mentioned that little detail,” Hassan smirked at him. 

Khalid groaned, now he was surely finished, “Yes, father, though I have worked to repay them these past few weeks... there are some to whom I still owe a blood debt, including that one-”

Khalid gestured at Byleth who was struggling to remain conscious, “She should be taken to the healing springs.”

His mother approached Byleth and feeling her forehead she exclaimed, “My dear, you are burning up! She’s very ill!”

“Summon the palace healers and the casters, I want them to have my apothecary ready,” She whirled on her son, “Why have you let her be paraded around so harshly in such a state? Especially owing her your life!”

Khalid could feel himself shrinking, “I told them to be careful with her,”

“I told them I didn’t really care,” Hassan shrugged.

“I will deal with you later.” Tiana glared at her stepson and held Byleth close. 

Staring daggers into the eyes of the guards, the queen herself scooped Byleth up as if she weighed nothing and turned back to her family, “Kamal, my stars, as your wife, I beseech you to let me proceed how I see fit. As for you, my sons, I invoke my powers as queen sovereign to take these children from your custody. They will be given food and lodging immediately, as well as any care they may need. And as your mother and stepmother, I am very disappointed in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be a bit of an unpopular opinion but I don't know why so many fanfics have Khalid/Claude's dad as this menacing villain, we have enough canonical terrible parents in Fodlan(Looking at you, Margrave Gautier and Margrave Von Varley), not to say I won't read the hell out of any and all Khalid/Claude content (Especially Claudeth/Bylaude) and the dark Claude family fics that I have read I have loved(if that's your thing check out Subtle, Sharp and Dangerous, the angst at the end destroyed me) but while my Khalid/Claude may still go a bit dark, but I am not here to villainize his parents. 
> 
> Also if it wasn't clear, the Almyrans are big about repaying people for saving your life in this fic. Next chapter I'll go more into Alliance and Almyran politics now that Tiana knows what's up.


	9. Rumors of a Demon

25th Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181 

"And how is the sleeping beauty?" Hassan draped his arm around his younger brother clinging to him like a snake in the cold, "I presume you've just come from the springs?" 

Khalid bristled at his tone, he had been lost in thought and hadn't noticed his approach. "She's awake today and improving slowly," 

Khalid had just checked in on Byleth. His mother was keeping her in a private room and regularly taking her to the springs or treating her with Marianne, the healers and her own tinctures and potions. The healers said she was stable, but after several days there was one thing in particular about her that was bothering him, apart from her inability to regain consciousness for very long, he noted that after the healers had washed her in the springs, the blue of her hair was lightening and a luminescent green tint was showing through. From what his mother told him, it was not uncommon for Fodlani's eyes and hair to be strikingly bright matching colors, but it appeared hers was changing, or the Golden Deer had been masking her true hair color somehow for some unknown purpose. Brightly colored hair was more common in the nobility than the commoners, but neither Hilda, Marianne nor Lorenz felt compelled to mask their rainbow appearances and midnight blue was not a subtle hair color either, if that's not what they'd been doing, why would they have been dying her hair? 

Khalid was so lost in thought he was tuning out most of Hassan's criticisms and complaints, but of course he drifted back into the conversation to hear his brother's final insults.

"And she wound up in that comatose state saving you? Remarkable really, how incompetent you can be," Hassan jabbed at him as they walked.

"Yes, yes, all I've heard these past few days is how terribly my plan failed," Khalid sighed.

"I suppose it is a good thing, I was going to let you take all the credit after all," Hassan mused, "So how are the queen's other new pets?" 

"I haven't been to see them," Khalid shrugged off his brother's arm.

"Oh? Could it be that you're scared to face them after that debacle on the mountain? Tsk… I hope you'll have found your nerve before father's council meeting…" Hassan waved his hand before him in admonishment.

Khalid gripped his arm to stop it moving, "I'll remind you that I was the one marching eight Fodlani prisoners-one a Goneril no less-right into the capital, largely unarmed, no escort, no Wyvern, by myself and then you turn up." 

"Really, Khal?" Hassan snatched his hand away and leveled a hard stare at him, "Did you honestly think they would just surrender to one man at the city gates? You would have needed my help eventually. I was ensuring a peaceful transition of power, take note for whenever I ascend to Father's throne, unless you think you can defeat me in a challenge for it?"

When Khalid said nothing Hassan seemed to lose interest, strolling down the hall, "In any case, you should visit our new guests, it's probably better if you drop in on them before I do." 

And that was how Khalid found himself missing a council meeting, cursing his brother, cursing the detailed brass door handle on the guest quarters, cursing the perturbed palace guards watching him and cursing himself, unable to yank open the door to face the Golden Deer. 

It had been a week, and he hadn't even made it this far before. It was easier to visit Byleth who was too weak to even know he was there most of the time, he wasn't even sure she registered his betrayal yet. As for facing the others, he simply hadn't worked out a script in his head, that was it, he always needed to be prepared to speak and be spoken to, to know what to say and how to get the other actors to play their parts. Still, the scene was set and he would have to face them sooner or later. 

Khalid opened the door to all the usual players, and one he didn’t expect. The guest quarters opened to a main room upholstered in fine tapestries with many a chaise lounge and cushions near the center where most of the Golden Deer congregated. There were royal guards posted around the room but they blended into the decor, attending the foreign royal hostages in silent resentment. Lysithea was as always, reading a spell tome by herself lounging in detailed lilac silk brocades on a plush couch by the window, the Almyran dress so long and large on her it pooled around her. Nearest her was Marianne similarly clad in deep blues looking surprisingly regal despite how she fidgeted seated at the edge of the cushions. Hilda was beside her, in salmon linen discussing jewelry with his mother, who sat among them in golden silks, looking more at home than he had ever seen her in the Almyran court. Leonie and Lorenz were dressed in plain linen thawb tunics huddled together with Raphael near the back of the room, discussing something in hushed tones while pretending to watch Ignatz paint on an easel. Much to Khalid’s surprise Fariq, his second eldest brother lounged in their midst, the only one actually watching Ignatz work, tracking the artist’s brush with a keen eye. His mother must have provided well for them this past week. 

As soon as they heard the door shut behind him, the scene froze and all the actors forgot their lines, turning to stare at him, he felt their scrutiny and their hurt in their gazes.

“How nice of you to join us, brother,” Fariq said in Almyran, as usual failing to read the room, “Come look at this young man's work, he tells me he has mixed his own paints from whatever pigments he can find. He has quite thoroughly extended the life of some of these colorful compounds without dulling the color, and he paints with such marvelous red tones,”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Khalid cleared his throat and switched to Fodlani, “How is everyone faring?”

“Your mother has been perfectly hospitable, Claude-Khalid,” Even Marianne was curt despite her eternal politeness. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Khalid rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and glanced at his mother in a plea for help.

He saw the faintest sigh escape her as she rose to her feet, “Hilda was just discussing some of the finer Fodlani arts I’d been missing, I’ve got some antique pieces I think might interest her. Fariq, come help me retrieve them.”

“Must I?” The prince asked, still blatantly staring at Ignatz’s canvas, who was blushing on behalf of his work. 

“Yes, child. You must.” Tiana summoned him to his feet with a wave and he lingered long as she made her way to the door.

“Remember, Habibi, they are your people too.” She whispered in Almyran as she passed him.

“In my defense, they tried to kill me first,” He muttered back. When his mother and brother departed from the room, he at last turned his attention to the Golden Deer, who were looking at him as if he had actually murdered someone they loved. He was suddenly very grateful for the Royal Guard whose hands now rested on their scimitars. 

“Have you liked the food?” Khalid floundered for conversation as he glanced at the trays and platters scattered among them. 

“It’s been very delicious, yes,” Marianne once again rose to the occasion of trying to converse with him, while the others simply stared. How hard they all had to try with one another.

Ignatz put down his paint brush, “It’s a bit spicier than I’m used to.... but it’s been wonderful…”

“And we have a great view of the courtyard,” Marianne gestured past the guards to the windows.

“Yes, yes, it’s all fantastic-please stop stroking his ego, they’ve given us a wonderful cage,” Leonie tossed her head back in frustration, falling back on the cushioned seat in mock exhaustion. When she sat up she leveled her eyes at him, “Are you here for anything other than to admire the painting?” 

Khalid couldn’t give ground, “It is my duty as a prince to see that my guests are treated well and want for nothing while they remain at the palace,” 

“Your guests?” Lorenz;s fists clenched and unclenched before him, purple eyes aflame as he stared him down, “Are we free to leave then?”

“Of course,” The guards had reflexively stepped closer to the group and Khalid waved them down, “But really, where would you go?”

Lorenz blanched and Khalid went on, “Where else could you get treatment for Byleth? Where else could you stay in such comfort? Where else would you have half the resources of a foreign power at your disposal because the queen took a liking to you? Enlighten me, Lorenz, what’s your big plan now? You may have the queen’s favor but scorn the next king and reap what you sow,”

“We could still go to Anshan!” Leonie insisted.

“You’re really acting like you had our best intentions at heart? You were going to offer us up like lambs before the slaughter!” Hilda said.

“How are you the next king? The other princes seemed older,” Lysithea mused.

“What we mean to say,” Raphael interrupted, resting a protective hand on Lorenz's shoulder, “Is that we are grateful that we’re being treated well and that you kept your end of the bargain and Byleth is being treated, even if that was not your original intention in bringing us here. We’re still hurt because you had weeks to tell us who you were and you lied and used us. We were just getting to know Claude, to depend on him, why should we trust Khalid?”

“You shouldn’t.” He sighed, “Khalid is the third prince of Almyra, with great ambitions of clawing his way to the top. Claude, owes you a life debt, and does not know how to repay that. Unfortunately, both used you, and both happen to be me. I can see that talking right now isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’ve sent a royal missive to the mercenaries in Anshan summoning them here to the capital. We can talk about your future when they arrive.” 

Khalid swept from the room, feeling their eyes burning into him as he left. When the door closed behind him with a resounding thud, he saw Fariq taking notes in a small booklet in the hall, his elder brother looked up. He snapped the book shut and tucked it away in one fluid motion, “Quite the intriguing group, Khal, I would like to glean some firsthand knowledge of Fodlani magic from that barbed-tongued little mage. What do you have planned for them?”

“Any plan I had ended when mother decided to adopt them under her protection,” Khalid sighed, “I thought they could help me gain leverage here, but now they’re being used against me, and mother really expects me to help them?” 

“Just pitiful,” a voice said behind them in Almyran.

Khalid whirled around to face what he was sure would be Hassan’s second tirade of the day, but the prince stood quiet, his eyes crinkled with smugness, and beside him, looking like she might blow away in the wind, Byleth limped forward. She was wrapped in a midnight pashmina over a plain linen thawb and against the blue silk a distinct greenness was showing through in her hair. As she looked from Hassan to him the curious and pained expression on her face hardened into a blank mask. She may not have understood their Almyran exchange but she certainly understood what he'd done to them. She nodded and bowed to Hassan first and then Khalid without a word and slowly shuffled into the guest quarters, a guard opening the door for her when she lacked the strength to push it forward. 

“Why were you escorting her?” Khalid snapped at Hassan as the door closed behind her. His brother simply beamed at him, unbearable shit eating grin plastered to his face.

“She’s an interesting woman, it’s a shame she’s so ill, I believe she could be useful in better health.” Hassan strolled between his brothers, “I’ve just been learning what I can, that Gloucester noble should be leading them but this waif seems to be in charge.”

Nothing about Byleth was waifish, Khalid thought, though the dark magic had taken a toll on her, he thought his brother a fool for not noticing her strength, an error he did not intend to correct, “And did you learn anything useful about our guests?” 

“I overheard quite the interesting rumor in father’s council chamber today.” Hassan was baiting him, he knew it, but he was too indignant to care, “The Adrestian Empire has put out a hefty bounty on a famous mercenary.” 

“Leonie?” Khalid asked, knowing that was not the answer but dreading the unknown truth that eluded him. 

“No name on the missive, the falcon carrying the poster damaged it. There was just a title and a description. A woman, wielding a bone greatsword with verdant hair also known as the Ashen Demon.”

Hassan produced the parchment flyer from his sleeve and passed it to Khalid. Bone greatsword. Likely disguised green hair. Mercenary connections.The ink of the illustration was blurred but there was no denying it was her pointed face and Adrestian pockets ran deep, a powerful potential ally. 

Would a blood debt to Alliance nobles matter if the empire crushed them anyway? At last his scheme might bear fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated, I just finished two essays yesterday, I am graduating imminently and I still have two essays to write. I'm going to try to get another chapter out today and then I'll disappear again to write my essays and resume updating and writing after I graduate.


	10. The Green Haired Mercenary

5th Garland Moon, Imperial Year 1181

A single white wyvern circled the sky above, its wings beating heavily as it began its descent over the rookery, and Khalid watched his elder brother dismount the creature, glowering at him from a distance. The colored glass panel before him obscured his dark expression should the crown prince look on the palace, unaware of his brother’s stare.   
Khalid had taken refuge in some of the queen’s private apartments within the palace. In name it was her wing of the building, but over the years it had become just as much his. When he was not making use of the royal library, Khalid spent his hours hiding in these corridors when his older brothers gave chase and he grew tired of their torment. Hassan was often more aggressive than Fariq but both could be cruel, and neither were allowed in these rooms. It was an old habit, one that he had thought he had outgrown when he had reached fourteen and gained the strength to send them running in turn, but here he was sulking. 

He heard the small tutting noises his mother made as she entered the room behind him and said, “Really Habibi? You are here reading again? I am disappointed in your inaction.”

“You and the entire palace.” Khalid said as he closed the book that lay open in his lap, “What am I supposed to do?”

“You will not accomplish anything hiding away from the Fodlani, you should be talking with them, something tells me we have yet to glean all the facts.” Tiana tapped the large scroll tucked under her arm as she spoke.

“I see little point in trying to learn anything else about them, they are misfit nobles from a crumbling country.” Khalid shrugged.

“Have I really failed you so ferociously?” Tiana asked with a knowing smile, “I thought for sure I taught my son to think more creatively than that.” 

“What would you have me do?” He asked.

Tiana stepped forward and unfurled the scroll revealing a large map of the continent, Fodlan taking up most of the parchment, Almyra a footnote off to the side. The territories of each noble house and city were labeled, and his mother fondly traced the crescent moon symbol adorning the name Riegan.

“This is my father’s land,” she said, “I grew up here, learned to use my crest, learned to fight.” 

“You’ve told me,” Khalid said but nonetheless he rose from his seat and studied the names.  
“You bear that crest and should you ever choose to use it, that name of Riegan. It is your land too.” Tiana traced the border between the countries next, “Fodlan is in strive right now, both the Kingdom and the Leicester Alliance are poised to fall to the Empire, but I am not so certain that they will go quietly.”

“The Empire has the size, the numbers, and it sounds like a head start,” And Hassan fulfilling their bounty just to spite me, Khalid thought.

“You should not count your peers out so surely,” Tiana’s hand went to the land labeled Gloucester next, “The Almyrans follow the strongest leader, and as such we are all warriors in our family. The Fodlani, value different strengths though, the Alliance nobles in particular, choose a leader based on their holdings, their diplomacy, all their prowess considered together. Regan, Gloucester, Goneril, Daphnel, they have traded leadership of the Alliance and partnered at the roundtable since it's founding. Your name and crest entitle you to carry on in my father's place at that roundtable, to command Riegans forces and say your piece. You could make a difference there." 

"But why would they trust an outsider?" 

"Because you can show them who you are. You are of Riegan, you've been trained since birth in strategy, archery, diplomacy and more. I like the Gloucester boy, I think he may even be a fine leader someday but I do not think he has the grit to see the alliance through this, at least not without help from an outsider." 

"They hate me," Khalid objected. 

"They've been hurt by you, they are wary, but this alliance is not beyond repair, work with them. If you want to challenge Hassan for the throne someday then having the good graces of the Leicester Alliance as part of your bargaining power would only help you. And your mother would not have to watch her father's lands crumble under an invading force of dark magic." 

"Dark magic? The kind destroying Byleth?" He asked. 

"And the Ordelia girl, she's confided in me much of the empire's depravity. They've done unspeakable things to her and her family." The look in her eyes reminded him of how she got her title, "That is why they must be stopped. They must be pushed back before they claim all of Fodlan and the rest of the continent." 

"I am afraid we are too late." Khalid sighed. 

"What do you mean?" She asked. 

"Hassan has been working against me as usual," he traced the crest of Seiros outlined over Garreg Mach, "there is a bounty on one of them, Byleth. He has asked me to hand her over peacefully. I am to be part of the exchange, a show of unity as part of my diplomatic role of supporting the crown prince. We are to bargain for quite a bit more gold and establish ties with the empire." 

His mother blanched, "You would agree to such a thing? Even after what I just told you?" 

"What other choice do I have?" Khalid slammed his fist against the table, "Every scheme, every plan, Hassan tears it down before I can even begin. His pawns are always three steps ahead of mine, with twice the fire power." 

"You and Hassan have clashed since you were big enough to crawl, he would fight you in the nursery and even then you did not give up. Now that you are nearly grown you mean to tell me there is nothing you can do?" 

Khalid searched the map, his eyes once again drawn to the monastery grounds, right in the middle of all the chaos. "I have to try something. We have clashed horns like wyverns all our lives and I have never once beaten him. Perhaps it is time I finally stand by his side."

He returned his mother’s horrified stare with a blank expression as he said, “I may be Claude von Riegan, but I am also Khalid, prince of Almyra, and my mind is made up.” 

Her white knuckled hands crumpled the map of Fodlan as he left.

~~~

Khalid opened the guest quarters unannounced, waving the guards forward with him. No Golden Deer in the main room this time. He passed through the suite entrance flanked by four of the guards. Without knocking, he tried the first bedroom beyond the main suite and seeing it empty, he tried the next. He found them at last. His eyes instantly met Byleth’s and once again all joy drained from her face, her eyes hardening and betraying no emotion. The green eyed woman was wearing a simple shift leaning over a wash basin, a soft towel on her shoulders, Hilda’s hands were in her hair, and Hilda’s hands were blue. In front of them Ignatz’s pigment kit lay open, the blue scraped clean. Marianne sat beside them, mixing that pigment into oils and creams no doubt provided by his mother. 

Khalid’s brow creased as he strode into the room and picked up the pigment kit, “Clever, instead of making paints you made dye.” 

“Yes, they did.” Byleth said, “They also did not invite you into this room.”

“Be that as it may, I am here.” Khalid said.  
“What do you want?” Hilda wiped the pigmented cream from her hands, though the palms remained stained.

“My brother has made a deal with an emissary from the Adrestian empire.” Khalid stared her down. He heard voices behind him and glancing back into the hall he saw Ignatz and Leonie trying to look past the guards.

“What kind of deal?” Byleth asked.

“They have produced a bounty for a green haired, sword wielding, Fodlani, mercenary. My brother intends to court their favor with his move.” Khalid rubbed some green and some of the charcoal black pigment between his fingers.

“And now you know about her hair. Do you intend to hand her over? After everything?” Leonie asked, though the guard’s crossed pikes blocked her path, he was certain she was already planning to wrest one free and stab him. 

Khalid turned to face her and the petite archer, meeting his honey eyes, “I intend to give Hassan what the bounty asks for.”

~~~  
Khalid could feel his palms sweating as he advanced towards the meeting room. He had changed his tunic into a green thawb and draped a golden and green sash across his waist, Hassan had age and power, but Khalid would always have showmanship. As the guards opened the door for him he took in the sight of his elder brother, seated at the war table scratching at the beard on his chin as he sipped tea, across from him stood a pale man in a dark uniform and cape, the tea offered before him sat on the table untouched. 

“Ah Prince Khalid, I was beginning to think the ailing Fodlani mercenary had bested you. Lord von Vestra and I have been waiting quite some time.” Hassan inclined his head in acknowledgement as he entered. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” Lord von Vestra spoke in halting Almyran and bowed in a stiff attempt at the Almyran court greeting. 

“We may converse in Fodlani, if that would help, Lord von Vestra,” Khalid spoke his mother’s tongue with perfect diction and bowed in turn to him, in the Fodlani style, crossing his hand over his heart and dipping his head slightly. 

“I was unaware you knew our language, Prince Khalid,” Lord Von Vestra said, relaxing into his own language, his fierce black eyes aflame despite his gentle words. 

Khalid was unaccustomed to such unabashed hostility, but he returned Vestra’s hungry gaze with a polite smile, “I believe I have found your wanted mercenary, they gave me quite the chase near the border, but they have been soundly captured.”

“Most curious that she would venture east even beyond the alliance.” Vestra pried.

“Indeed,” Khalid waved and the royal guards entered. Two towering Almyrans hefted a figure in long green silks into the room where they released them and the figure crumpled unceremoniously at the feet of von Vestra, “Here is your green haired mercenary as promised.”

“Hu-Hubert?” Ignatz brushed the green silk scarf off his head as he sat up, the man in black towering over him. Khalid had dressed him in a flowing green thawb and brown salwar trousers. He had also smeared khol and green pigment around his eyes, accentuating his already androgynous features and brightening the lime tint to his hair.

“Ignatz.” Vestra’s face hardened into an angry mask and Khalid felt the telltale electric of magic crackling just beyond Vestra’s fingertips, “I was expecting your professor. Does this amuse you, Prince Khalid?”

“This person was the only green haired mercenary we apprehended.” Khalid kept his face impassive, praying to all the gods that Hassan would not contradict him.

“While Messer Victor possesses feminine features, he is not whom I was sent to retrieve, are you sure you did not apprehend any others who more closely align with the bounty description?” Vestra was spitting venom at him.

“We did apprehend others, all pastel hues as you Fodlani so often are, but this young mercenary was the only green haired swordsman among them,” Khalid smiled innocently.

“Ignatz was always terrible with swords.” Vestra stated, the air burning with unspoken spells just barely contained.

Khalid waved and a guard brought forth a damaged iron sword, “Nonetheless he tried to fend us off with one.”

“And there was no other green haired mercenary? No woman wielding a bone sword?” Vestra snarled.

“We apprehended no one else close to such a description.” Khalid shrugged and glanced at Hassan. His brother’s mouth was twitching slightly in agitation but he had yet to contradict him.

“My brother his being truthful, Lord von Vestra, I am most attuned to his lies,” Hassan said in slow Almyran and Vestra gave a curt nod.

“It is most unfortunate then that the Adrestian empire could not be less interested in Ignatz Victor.” Vestra stepped over him without a second glance at the boy, “I will be taking my leave, your highnesses.”

Vestra bowed and departed from the room, taking with him an air of gloom and darkness that Khalid was certain came from either his evil magic, or his sparkling personality. Hubert von Vestra had carried no weapons, but they would need a caster present should he ever visit Almyra again, and even that might not mitigate the threat. Khalid released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and smiled at Ignatz, who was distressingly unwrapping the lime colored silk wrap from his shoulders. 

“I’m not too bad with a sword,” He protested.

“No, my friend, but you certainly have a lot to learn.” Khalid said, helping him up. The guards ushered Ignatz out, instructed to return him to the guest quarters much more delicately than they had brought him, leaving the princes alone.

“You’re playing with fire, Khalid.” Hassan said. 

"I'm not sure what you mean," Khalid waved his hands defensively, "I did as I was bid, and as you know I told no lies, we have no other green haired guests," 

"Play the fool all you want, brother, but you have just cost us a potential alliance and humiliated me in front of a foreign noble." Hassan rose to his feet and said, "I hope they were worth it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if there are mistakes, I was rushing with this one, I hope you liked it but honestly confession time: Byleth dying her hair is what inspired this entire story line and I really wanted to write this bait and switch. I have blue hair I keep bright with pigmented conditioner, and I happened to glance down at my hands in the shower a couple of weeks ago and think about Ignatz's blue stone lost item and how I bet that pigment could be mixed to create things other than paints, and I bet they could make hair dye! But who would dye their hair and why? And thus this entire fic popped into my head, I jumped out of the shower and outlined the whole thing and here we go - this is not the end by any means, I want to do a full retelling with this AU but this is what made me think of the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come soon, this idea is burning out my brain ... heh...


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